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THE 

CHANGED    GROSS 

AND 

OTHER  RELIGIOUS  POEMS 


COMPILED   BY 


ANSON  D.  F.  RANDOLPH 


INCLUDING   CERTAIN    ORIGINAL   POEMS   BY    THE    EDITOR 


THIRD,  ENLARGED,  EDITION 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

^be  IKnicfterbockcr  ipteaa 
1907 


Copyright,  1897 

BY 

A.  D.  F.  RANDOLPH  CO. 


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TTbc  Iftntcfterbocfter  ipress,  IRew  Igorft 


PREFACE. 

T^HE  editor  and  compiler  of  The  Changed  Cross,  and 
Other  Religious  Poems,  the  late  Anson  D.  F.  Ean- 
dolph,  was  also  the  publisher  of  the  volume.  The  initial 
poem  was  identified  with  the  early  history  of  his  publish- 
ing house,  and,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  prose 
volumes,  the  issue  of  this  poem,  printed  separately,  con- 
stituted his  first  publishing  venture.  As  I  recall  the 
circumstances  related  to  me  by  my  father,  he  had,  in 
looking  over  the  religious  papers,  been  attracted  to  a 
poem  printed  anonymously  under  the  title  of  The 
Changed  Cross,  It  appealed  to  his  judgment  as  worthy 
of  a  more  permanent  form  than  that  of  a  fugitive  news- 
paper publication,  and  he  printed  the  poem,  first  as  a 
leaflet,  and  subsequently  in  a  little  volume  containing 
some  twenty  other  poems  which  he  had  selected  from 
various  sources.  This  little  volume  had  from  the  begin- 
ning a  remarkable  career,  and  the  editor  found  himself 
interested  in  gathering  together  a  number  of  other  poems 
similar  in  trend  of  thought  and  character,  and  in  adding 
them  to  the  original  collection.  The  volume  as  now 
printed  contains  certain  later  additions,  including  a  few 
poems  selected  from  Mr.  Randolph's  volume  of  Verses. 

Mr.  Randolph  was  always  interested  in  emphasizing 
the  undenominational  character  of  his  compilation.  He 
pointed  out  that  The  Changed  Cross  presents  an 
expression  of  religious  feeling,  religious  ideas,  and 
religious  sentiment,  addressed  not  to  Episcopalians  or 
Presbyterians,  not  even  to  Protestants  rather  than  to 
lit 


303994 


iv  preface 

Catholics,  but  simply  to  Christians.  The  verses  can  be 
accepted  by  believers  throughout  the  world  as  express- 
ing the  broad  human  aspiration  towards  a  divine  power, 
and  the  acceptance  of  the  authority  and  recognition  of 
the  love  of  such  divine  power. 

In  this  prefatory  note,  which  the  present  publishers 
have  asked  me  to  prepare  for  their  new  edition  of  The 
Changed  Cross ,  a  personal  allusion  may  not  be  amiss. 
There  was,  perhaps,  no  publication  which  bore  my 
father's  imprint  which  so  clearly  typified  his  own  nature 
and  character.  The  poems  in  the  collection,  emphasiz- 
ing as  they  do  the  various  phases  of  Christian  life  and 
experience,  found  a  responsive  and  sympathetic  note  in 
his  own  life,  and  as  they  had  been  to  him  helpful  and 
hopeful,  he  felt  that  in  giving  them  a  wide  circulation 
he  was  aiding  others  to  secure  some  of  the  benefits 
which  they  had  wrought  for  him. 

Many  of  the  poems  here  gathered  represent  not  only 
the  faith  which  crowned  my  father's  days,  but  also  cer- 
tain phases  of  experience  in  the  Christian  life,  the  ex- 
pression of  which  had  done  so  much  in  guiding  his 
career  and  controlling  his  life-work. 

Anson  D.  F.  Randolph  was  born  at  Woodbridge,  New 
Jersey,  October  18,  1820,  and  as  a  boy  entered  the  em- 
ploy of  the  American  Sunday-School  Union.  In  1851  he 
started  as  a  publisher  and  bookseller  in  a  small  store  at 
the  corner  of  Amity  Street  and  Broadway.  Outside  of 
his  church  and  literary  interest,  his  whole  life  was 
devoted  to  the  profession  he  had  chosen.  He  died  at 
Westhampton,  Long  Island,  on  the  6th  day  of  July, 
1896. 

Arthur  D.  F.  Randolph. 

New  York,  April  13,  1906. 


The  great  favor  which  a  part  of  the  following  selec- 
tions had  met  in  the  form  of  "Leaflets  for  Letters" 
induced  the  Publishers,  some  few  years  ago,  to  gather 
them  in  a  volume  that  found  a  wide  circulation. 

In  March,  1865,  a  new  edition,  with  additions,  was 
published  ;  and  the  continued  demand  for  the  work  has 
led  to  the  present  enlargement,  which  embraces  some 
twenty-nine  additional  poems. 

As  the  poems  are  mainly  waifs,  gathered  from  maga- 
zines and  newspapers,  it  has  not  been  possible,  except  in 
a  few  instances,  to  ascertain  the  names  of  the  writers. 

A.  D.  F.  R. 

New  York,  March ^  1872. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Abide  with  Us 133 

♦Abiding  with  God 43 

♦Absent  Lord,  The 103 

After  the  Battle 203 

"All,  All  is  Known  to  Thee  " 15 

All  in  Christ 129 

All  is  Light .        .        .96 

"Alone,  yet  Not  Alone  " 39 

Alpha  and  Omega 218 

Anchor  within  the  Veil,  The       .        .        .         .        .86 
Asleep  on  Guard 104 

Beautiful  Hands 193 

Bethany 214 

Better  Life,  The 134 

Border  Lands,  The 13 

Bridegroom's  Dove,  The 27 

Bridges 98 

"Bringing  our  Sheaves  with  Us"       ....  171 
Burial  of  Moses,  The 108 

Call,  The 65 

Changed  Cross,  The 1 

Christian  and  his  Echo,  The 113 

Christmas  Hymn,  A 121 

Cloud  Vision,  The 205 

Come  ! 175 

Comfort  by  the  Way 115 

Coming          .........  91 

Communion  with  God          ......  125 

*  Reprinted  by  the  courtesy  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 
vii 


viii  Content0 

PAGB 

*  Consider  Him 183 

Cross,  The .145 

Cross  and  Crown,  The 69 

Cross-Bearer,  The 188 

Crown,  The 146 

Delectable  Mountains,  The 84 

Distractions  in  Prayer 89 

Drawing  Water 137 

Eleventh  Hour,  The 170 

Euthanasy .168 

Even  Me -        .     69 

Evening  Prayer 49 

Faith's  Repose 84 

*' Father,  take  my  Hand" 100 

Finished  Work 191 

Footsteps  on  the  Other  Side 164 

For  the  New  Year 155 

Funeral  Hymn 166 

God,  my  Exceeding  Joy 30 

God  our  Strength  .......     10 

God's  Anvil 68 

God's  Support  and  Guidance 31 

God's  Ways .        .87 

Gone  Home 165 

Gracious  Answer,  The 101 

Grandfather's  Pet 199 

Grief  was  sent  Thee  for  thy  Good       .         .        .        .77 

He  is  my  Shepherd 184 

Heaven 45 

"  Himself  hath  Done  it  " 130 

Hinder  me  Not 36 

Holy  Tears 9 

*  Hopefully  Waiting 4 

*  Reprinted  by  the  courtesy  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


Contenta  ix 

PAGE 

Hour  of  Prayer,  The 105 

How  Doth  Death  Speak  of  Our  Beloved  ?  .        .        .118 
Hymn  of  Trust 108 

I  Am 38 

"I  Cling  to  Thee" 38 

In  Heaven 58 

In  the  Field 196 

Into  His  Hands 177 

''It  is  I:  Be  Not  Afraid" 60 

It  is  Well 143 

"  It  Might  Have  Been "       .        .        .        .        .        .208 

Jerusalem  the  Golden 201 

Leave  Me  Not  Now 83 

Less  and  More 114 

Light  in  Darkness 124 

Little  While,  A 210 

Little  While,  A 35 

Living  Waters 131 

Long  Good-Night,  The 163 

Longings 97 

Lost  Treasures 19 

Mary's  Choice 24 

Meeting-Place,  The 6 

Meeting  Place,  The 173 

Memories 150 

Mercy  before  Sacrifice 207 

Mighty  to  Save 211 

Ministry 141 

"  Mortally  Wounded  " 178 

My  Guest 90 

My  Lambs 62 

My  Ships •    .         .         .         .194 

"  My  Times  are  in  Thy  Hands  " 11 

*  Reprinted  by  the  courtesy  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


X  Contente 

PAGE 

Nature  and  Faith 61  - 

Near  Jesus 53 

' '  Nearer  Home  " 25 

Need  of  Jesus,  The Ill 

*  Night  Swept  Cool  o'er  Bethlehem's  Plain,  The        .  144 
Now .        .  Ill 

Oh  !  for  the  Happy  Days  Gone  By       .         .        .        .16 

Oh  !  my  Savior  Crucified 71 

Oh  !  to  be  Eeady 26 

"  O  Lord  !  Thou  Knowest  " 139 

One  by  One 23 

Onward         .        . 75 

*  Outward  Bound .56 

Pathways  of  the  Holy  Land 153 

Peace 73 

Peace  of  God,  The 71 

Perpetuity  of  Joy  in  Heaven,  The       .                 .        .  155 

Pilgrim,  The 7 

Pilgrim  of  Earth 54 

Pilgrim's  Wants,  The 44 

"  Post  Tenebras  Lux  " 192 

Pray  for  Whom  Thou  Lovest 136 

Prayer  for  Strength 74 

Prayer  out  of  the  Depths     .        .        .        .        .        .  147 

Quiet  Mind,  A 95 

Retrospect 116 

"  Return  thee  to  thy  Rest " 51 

Revived 197 

Salome 149 

Scenes  "  on  Jordan's  Strand  " 77 

School  of  Suffering,  The 40 

Sufferer  Cheered,  The 127 

Sunday 20 

*  Reprinted  by  the  courtesy  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


Content  0  xi 

PAGE 

♦Sunday  Thought,  A 117 

Supplication 48 

"  Teneo  et  Teneor "      .        .        .        .        .        .        .213 

There  is  Light  Beyond 78 

They  Shall  Be  Mine 82 

''This  I  Did  for  Thee— What  Doest  Thou  for  Me  ?  "     182 

Through  the  Flood  on  Foot 158 

"  Thy  Will  Be  Done  " .80 

"  Thy  Will  Be  Done  " 106 

Time  for  Prayer,  The 123 

True  Dream,  A 138 

Trust 200 

*  Unto  the  Desired  End 219 

Very  Present  Help  in  Trouble,  A        ....  209 
Voice  from  Heaven,  A .47 

Waiting 216 

Walking  in  White 186 

Wandering  Heart,  The 50 

Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life,  The     .        .         .        .121 

We  are  the  Lord's .  168 

"  What  is  This  that  He  Saith:  A  Little  While  ?  "        .     57 

Who  is  my  Brother  ? 53 

Wholly  Resigned 11 

Widow  of  Nain,  The 152 

With  Faith  and  Prayer 180 

*  Reprinted  by  the  courtesy  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


THE    CHANGED    CROSS, 

AND  OTHER 

RELIGIOUS  POEMS. 


TT  was  a  time  of  sadness,  and  my  heart. 

Although  it  knew  and  loved  the  better  part, 
Felt  wearied  with  the  conflict  and  the  strife, 
And  all  the  needful  discipline  of  life. 

And  while  I  thought  on  these,  as  given  to  me — 
My  trial  tests  of  faith  and  love  to  be — 
It  seemed  as  if  I  never  could  be  sure 
That  faithful  to  the  end  I  should  endure. 

And  thus,  no  longer  trusting  to  His  might 
Who  says,  "  We  walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight," 
Doubting,  and  almost  yielding  to  despair, 
The  thought  arose — My  cross  I  can  not  bear : 

Far  heavier  its  weight  must  surely  be 
Than  those  of  others  which  I  daily  see. 
Oh  I  if  I  might  another  burden  choose, 
Methinks  I  should  not  fear  my  crown  to  lose. 

A  solemn  silence  reigned  on  all  around — 
E'en  Nature's  voices  uttered  not  a  sound ; 
The  evening  shadows  seemed  of  peace  to  tell, 
And  sleep  upon  my  weary  spirit  fell. 


^be  vXbfti^.oee)  (1x066 

A  moment's  pause — aJid  then  a  heavenly  light 
Beamed  full  upon  my  wondering,  raptured  sight ; 
Angels  on  silvery  wings  seemed  everywhere, 
And  angels'  music  thrilled  the  balmy  air. 

Then  One,  more  fair  than  all  the  rest  to  see — 
One  to  whom  all  the  others  bowed  the  knee — 
Came  gently  to  me  as  I  trembling  lay, 
And,  "  Follow  Me  ! "  He  said;  *'  I  am  the  Way." 

Then,  speaking  thus.  He  led  me  far  above, 
And  there,  beneath  a  canopy  of  love, 
Crosses  of  divers  shape  and  size  were  seen. 
Larger  and  smaller  than  my  own  had  been. 

And  one  there  was,  most  beauteous  to  behold, 
A  little  one,  with  jewels  set  in  gold. 
Ah  !  this,  me  thought,  I  can  with  comfort  wear, 
For  it  will  be  an  easy  one  to  bear  : 

And  so  the  little  cross  I  quickly  took  ; 
But,  all  at  once,  my  frame  beneath  it  shook. 
The  sparkling  jewels  fair  were  they  to  see, 
But  far  too  heavy  was  their  weight  for  me. 

"  This  may  not  be,"  I  cried,  and  looked  again, 
To  see  if  there  was  any  here  could  ease  my  pain ; 
But,  one  by  one,  I  passed  them  slowly  by. 
Till  on  a  lovely  one  I  cast  my  eye. 

Fair  flowers  around  its  sculptured  form  entwined, 
And  grace  and  beauty  seemed  in  it  combined. 
Wondering,  I  gazed  ;  and  still  I  wondered  more 
To  think  so  many  should  have  passed  it  o'er. 

But  oh  !  that  form  so  beautiful  to  see 

Soon  made  its  hidden  sorrows  known  to  me  ; 


Ebe  Cbattdcd  Ct06d 

Thorns  lay  beneath  those  flowers  and  colors  fair  I 
Sorrowing,  I  said  :  * '  This  cross  I  may  not  bear. " 

And  so  it  was  with  each  and  all  around — 
Not  one  to  suit  my  need  could  there  be  found ; 
Weeping,  I  laid  each  heavy  burden  down. 
As  my  Guide  gently  said  :  **  No  cross,  no  crown 

At  length,  to  Him  I  raised  my  saddened  heart : 
He  knew  its  sorrows,  bid  its  doubts  depart. 
** Be  not  afraid,"  He  said,  "but  trust  in  Me — 
My  perfect  love  shall  now  be  shown  to  thee." 

And  then,  with  lightened  eyes  and  willing  feet, 
Again  I  turned,  my  earthly  cross  to  meet, 
With  forward  footsteps,  turning  not  aside, 
For  fear  some  hidden  evil  might  betide ; 

And  there — in  the  prepared,  appointed  way, 
Listening  to  hear,  and  ready  to  obey — 
A  cross  I  quickly  found  of  plainest  form. 
With  only  words  of  love  inscribed  thereon. 

With  thankfulness  I  raised  it  from  the  rest, 
And  joyfully  acknowledged  it  the  best — 
The  only  one  of  all  the  many  there 
That  I  cou.d  feel  was  good  for  me  to  bear. 

And,  while  I  thus  my  chosen  one  confessed, 
I  saw  a  heavenly  brightness  on  it  rest ; 
And,  as  I  bent,  my  burden  to  sustain, 
I  recognized  my  own  old  cross  again. 

But  oh  I  how  different  did  it  seem  to  be, 
Now  I  had  learned  its  preciousness  to  see  I 
No  longer  could  I  unbelieving  say, 
Perhaps  another  is  a  better  way. 


4  Ibopetull^  TKHaiting 

Ah,  no  I  henceforth  my  own  desire  shall  be, 
That  He  who  knows  me  best  should  choose  for  me 
And  so,  whate'er  His  love  sees  good  to  send, 
I  '11  trust  it 's  best,  because  He  knows  the  end. 

*'For  ray  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts,  saith  the  Lord."— 
Isaiah  50 :  8. 

"  For  I  know  the  thoughts  that  I  think  toward  you— thoughts 
of  peace,  and  not  of  evil,  to  give  you  an  expected  end."— 
JER.29:  11. 

And  when  that  happy  time  shall  come,  of  endless  peace  and  rest, 
We  shall  look  back  upon  our  path,  and  say  :  It  was  the  best. 


HOPEFULLY  WAITING. 

Blessed  are  they  that  are  Homesick,  for  they  shall  come  at  last 
to  the  Father's  House.— Heinrich  Stilling. 

TV]  OT  as  you  meant,  O  learned  man  and  good. 
Do  I  accept  thy  words  of  hope  and  rest ; 
God,  knowing  all,  knows  what  for  me  is  best, 
And  gives  me  what  I  need,  not  what  He  could. 

Nor  always  as  I  would  ! 
I  shall  go  to  the  Father's  House  and  see 

Him  and  the  Elder  Brother  face  to  face, — 
What  day  or  hour  I  know  not.    Let  me  be 

Steadfast  in  work,  and  earnest  in  the  race. 
Not  as  a  homesick  child,  who  all  day  long 
Whines  at  its  play,  and  seldom  speaks  in  song. 

If  for  a  time  some  loved  one  goes  away 
And  leaves  us  our  appointed  work  to  do. 
Can  we  to  him  or  to  ourselves  be  true, 

In  mourning  his  departure  day  by  day, 
And  so  our  work  delay  ? 


IbopefuUi?  IKHaitlng 

Nay,  if  we  love  and  honor,  we  shall  make 
The  absence  brief  by  doing  well  our  task,— 

Not  for  ourselves,  but  for  the  dear  one's  sake  ; 
And  at  His  coming  only  of  Him  ask 

Approval  of  the  work,  which  most  was  done. 

Not  for  ourselves,  but  our  beloved  one  ! 

Our  Father's  House,  I  know,  is  broad  and  grand ; 

In  it  how  many,  many  mansions  are, 

And  far  beyond  the  light  of  sun  or  star 
Four  little  ones  of  mine  through  that  fair  land 

Are  walking  hand  in  hand  I 
Think  you  I  love  not,  or  that  I  forget 

These  of  my  loins  ?    Still  this  world  is  fair, 
And  I  am  singing  while  my  eyes  are  wet 

With  weeping  in  this  balmy  summer  air ; 
I  am  not  homesick,  and  the  children  here 
Have  need  of  me,  and  so  my  way  is  clear  I 

I  would  be  joyful  as  my  days  go  by, 
Counting  God's  mercies  to  me.     He  who  bore 
Life's  heaviest  Cross  is  mine  for  evermore  ; 

And  I,  who  wait  His  coming,  shall  not  I 
On  His  sure  word  rely  ? 

So  if  sometimes  the  way  be  rough,  and  sleep 
Be  heavy  for  the  grief  He  sends  to  me, 

Or  at  my  waking  I  would  only  weep, — 
Let  me  be  mindful  that  these  things  must  be. 

To  work  His  blessed  will  until  He  come 

And  take  my  hand  and  lead  me  safely  home. 


THE  MEETING-PLACE. 

"Ili/HERE  the  faded  flower  shall  freshen^ 

'  ^      Freshen  never  more  to  fade  ; 
Where  the  shaded  sky  shall  brighten, 

Brighten  never  more  to  shade  ; 
Where  the  sun-blaze  never  scorches  ; 

Where  the  star-beams  cease  to  chill ; 
Where  no  tempest  stirs  the  echoes 

Of  the  wood,  or  wave,  or  hill ; 
Where  the  morn  shall  wake  in  gladness. 

And  the  noon  the  joy  prolong  ; 
Where  the  daylight  dies  in  fragrance 

'Mid  the  burst  of  holy  song — 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest. 


Where  no  shadow  shall  bewilder  ; 

Where  life's  vain  parade  is  o'er ; 
Where  the  sleep  of  sin  is  broken, 

And  the  dreamer  dreams  no  more ; 
Where  the  bond  is  never  severed — 

Partings,  claspings,  sobs,  and  moan, 
Midnight  waking,  twilight  weeping. 

Heavy  noontide — all  are  done  ; 
Where  the  child  has  found  its  mother. 

Where  the  mother  finds  the  child  ; 
Where  dear  families  are  gathered 

That  were  scattered  on  the  wild — 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest. 
6 


tTbe  Abeetind^place 

Where  the  hidden  wound  is  healed  ; 

Where  the  blighted  light  re-blooms  ; 
Where  the  smitten  heart  the  freshness 

Of  its  buoyant  youth  resumes  ; 
Where  the  love  that  here  we  lavish 

On  the  withering  leaves  of  time, 
Shall  have  fadeless  flowers  to  fix  on, 

In  an  ever  spring-bright  clime  ; 
Where  we  find  the  joy  of  loving, 

As  we  never  loved  before  ; 
Loving  on  unchilled,  unhindered. 

Loving  once  and  evermore — 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
*Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest. 

Where  a  blasted  world  shall  brighten 

Underneath  a  bluer  sphere. 
And  a  softer,  gentle  sunshine 

Shed  its  healing  splendor  here  ; 
Where  earth's  barren  vales  shall  blossom, 

Putting  on  their  robe  of  green, 
And  a  purer,  fairer  Eden 

Be  where  only  wastes  have  been  ; 
Where  a  King,  in  kingly  glory 

Such  as  earth  has  never  known, 
Shall  assume  the  righteous  sceptre, 

Claim  and  wear  the  heavenly  crown — 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest. 


THE  PILGRIM, 

C  TILL  onward  through  this  land  of  foes 

I  pass  in  Pilgrim  guise  ; 
I  may  not  stop  to  seek  repose 
Where  cool  the  shadow  lies ; 


XLbc  ipilsrlm 

I  may  not  stoop  amid  the  grass 
To  pluck  earth's  fairest  flowers, 

Nor  by  her  springing  fountains  pass 
The  sultry  noontide  hours ; 

Yet  flowers  I  wear  upon  my  breast 

That  no  earth-garden  knows — 
White  lilies  of  immortal  peace, 

And  love's  deep- tinted  rose  ; 
And  there  the  blue-eyed  flowers  of  faith 

And  hope's  bright  buds  of  gold, 
As  lone  I  tread  the  upward  path, 

In  richest  hues  unfold. 

I  keep  my  armor  ever  on, 

For  foes  beset  my  way  ; 
I  watch,  lest  passing  on  alone, 

I  fall  a  helpless  prey. 
No  earthly  love  have  I — I  lean 

Upon  no  mortal  breast ; 
But  my  Beloved,  though  unseen. 

Walks  near  and  gives  me  rest. 

Afar,  around,  I  often  see. 

Throughout  this  desert  wide, 
His  Pilgrims  pressing  on  like  me — 

They  often  pass  my  side: 
The  kindly  smile,  the  gentle  word, 

For  Jesus'  sake  I  give  ; 
But  love — O  Thou  alone  adored  I 

For  Thee  alone  I  live. 

Painful  and  dark  the  pathway  seem 

To  distant  earthly  eyes  ; 
They  only  see  the  hedging  thorns 

On  either  side  that  rise  ; 


They  can  not  know  how  soft  between 
The  flowers  of  love  are  strewn — 

The  sunny  ways,  the  pastures  green, 
Where  Jesus  leads  His  own  ; 

They  can  not  see,  as  darkening  clouds 

Behind  the  Pilgrim  close. 
How  far  ad  own  the  western  glade 

The  golden  glory  flows  ; 
They  can  not  hear  'mid  earthly  din 

The  song  to  Pilgrims  known. 
Still  blending  with  the  angels'  hymn 

Around  the  wondrous  throne. 

So  I,  Thy  bounteous  token-flowers 

Still  on  my  bosom  wear  ; 
While  me,  the  fleeting  love- winged  hours 

To  Thee  still  nearer  bear  ; 
So  from  my  lips  Thy  song  shall  flow, 

My  sweetest  music  be  ; 
So  on  mine  eyes  the  glory  grow, 

Till  all  is  lost  in  Thee. 


HOLY  TEARS, 

VES,  thou  may'st  weep,  for  Jesus  shed 

Such  tears  as  those  thou  sheddest  now 
When,  for  the  living  or  the  dead, 
Sorrow  lay  heavy  on  His  brow. 

He  sees  thee  weep,  yet  doth  not  blame 
The  weakness  of  thy  flesh  and  heart ; 

Thy  human  nature  is  the  same 
As  that  in  which  He  took  a  part. 


(5oD  our  Strengtb 

He  knows  its  weakness,  for  He  felt 
The  crushing  power  of  pain  and  woe  ; 

How  body,  soul,  and  spirit  melt, 
And  faint  beneath  the  stunning  blow. 

What  if  poor  sinners  count  thy  grief 
The  sign  of  an  unchastened  will  ? 

He  who  can  give  thy  soul  relief. 
Knows  that  thou  art  submissive  still. 

Turn  thee  to  Him,  to  Him  alone  ; 

For  all  that  our  poor  lips  can  say 
To  soothe  thee,  broken-hearted  one, 

"Would  fail  to  comfort  thee  to-day. 

We  will  not  speak  to  thee,  but  sit 
In  prayerful  silence  by  thy  side  ; 

Grief  has  its  ebbs  and  flows  ;  't  is  fit 
Our  love  should  wait  the  ebbing  tide. 

Jesus  Himself  will  comfort  thee. 
In  His  own  time,  in  His  own  way  ; 

And  haply  more  than  "  two  or  three  " 
Unite  in  prayer  for  thee  to-day. 


GOD  OUR  STRENGTH. 

IWl  AN,  in  his  weakness,  needs  a  stronger  stay 
^         Than  fellow-men,  the  holiest  and  the  best ; 
And  yet  we  turn  to  them  from  day  to  day, 
As  if  in  them  our  spirits  could  find  rest. 

Gently  untwine  our  childish  hands,  that  cling 
To  such  inadequate  supports  as  these. 

And  shelter  us  beneath  Thy  heavenly  wing. 
Till  we  have  learned  to  walk  alone  with  ease. 


'QQlboni^  lRceiQnct>  ii 

Help  us,  O  Lord  !  with  patient  love  to  bear 
Each  other's  faults,  to  suffer  with  true  meekness  ; 

Help  us  each  other's  joys  and  griefs  to  share, 
But  let  us  turn  to  Thee  alone  in  weakness. 


WHOLLY  RESIGNED. 

f^  HRIST  leads  us  through  no  darker  rooms 

Than  He  went  through  before  : 
He  that  into  God's  kingdom  comes, 

Must  enter  by  this  door  ; 
Come,  Lord,  when  grace  hath  made  me  meet 

Thy  blessed  face  to  see. 
For  if  Thy  work  on  earth  be  sweet. 

What  will  Thy  glory  be  ! 

Then  I  shall  end  my  sad  complaints. 

And  weary,  sinful  days  ; 
And  join  with  the  triumphant  saints, 

That  sing  Jehovah's  praise  : 
My  knowledge  of  that  life  is  small. 

The  eye  of  faith  is  dim. 
But 't  is  enough  that  Christ  knows  all. 

And  I  shall  be  with  Him. 


''MY  TIMES  ARE  IN  THY  HAND: 

Psalm  31  :  15. 

U  ATHER,  I  know  that  all  my  life 

Is  portioned  out  for  me  ; 
And  the  changes  that  are  sure  to  come, 

I  do  not  fear  to  see  ; 
But  I  ask  Thee  for  a  present  mind 

Intent  on  pleasing  Thee. 


**  USs^  Zimce  Bre  in  ^b^  IbanD  " 

I  ask  Thee  for  a  thankful  love. 

Through  constant  watching  wise, 
To  meet  the  glad  with  joyful  smiles, 

And  to  wipe  the  weeping  eyes; 
And  a  heart  at  leisure  from  itself, 

To  soothe  and  sympathize. 

I  would  not  have  the  restless  will 

That  hurries  to  and  fro, 
Seeking  for  some  great  thing  to  do, 

Or  secret  thing  to  know  ; 
I  would  be  dealt  with  as  a  child. 

And  guided  where  to  go. 

Wherever  in  the  world  I  am, 

In  whatsoe'er  estate, 
I  have  a  fellowship  with  hearts 

To  keep  and  cultivate  ; 
And  a  work  of  holy  love  to  do 

For  the  Lord  on  whom  I  wait. 

I  ask  Thee  for  the  daily  strength. 

To  none  that  ask  denied  ; 
And  a  mind  to  blend  with  outward  life, 

While  keeping  at  Thy  side  ; 
Content  to  fill  a  little  space. 

If  Thou  be  glorified. 

And  if  some  things  I  do  not  ask 

In  my  cup  of  blessing  be, 
I  would  have  my  spirit  filled  the  more 

With  grateful  love  to  Thee — 
More  careful  than  to  serve  Thee  much, 

To  please  Thee  perfectly. 

There  are  briers  besetting  every  path, 
That  call  for  patient  care  ; 


(Tbe  JBorOcr*XanD0  13 

There  is  a  crook  in  every  lot, 

And  a  need  for  earnest  prayer  ; 
But  a  lonely  heart  that  leans  on  Thee 

Is  happy  everywhere. 

In  a  service  that  Thy  love  appoints 

There  are  no  bonds  for  me, 
For  my  secret  heart  is  taught  the  truth 

That  makes  Thy  children  "  free  "; 
And  a  life  of  self -renouncing  love 

Is  a  life  of  liberty. 


THE  BORDER-LANDS, 

P  ATHER,  into  Thy  loving  hands 

My  feeble  spirit  I  commit. 
While  wandering  in  these  Border-Lands, 
Until  Thy  voice  shall  summon  it. 


Father,  I  would  not  dare  to  choose 
A  longer  life,  an  earlier  death  ; 

I  know  not  what  my  soul  might  lose 
By  shortened  or  protracted  breath. 

These  Border-Lands  are  calm  and  still. 
And  solemn  are  their  silent  shades  ; 

And  my  heart  welcomes  them,  until 
The  light  of  life's  long  evening  fades. 

I  heard  them  spoken  of  with  dread, 
As  fearful  and  unquiet  places  ; 

Shades,  where  the  living  and  the  dead 
Look  sadly  in  each  other's  faces. 


14  ^be  JSorDer^Xanda 

But  since  Thy  hand  hath  led  me  here. 
And  I  have  seen  the  Border-Land  ; 

Seen  the  dark  river  flowing  near, 
Stood  on  its  brink,  as  now  I  stand, 

There  has  been  nothing  to  alarm 
My  trembling  soul;  how  could  I  fear 

While  thus  encircled  with  Thine  arm  ? 
I  never  felt  Thee  half  so  near. 

What  should  appal  me  in  a  place 
That  brings  me  hourly  nearer  Thee? 

When  I  may  almost  see  Thy  face — 
Surely  't  is  here  my  soul  would  be. 

They  say  the  waves  are  dark  and  deep, 
That  faith  has  perished  in  the  river  ; 

They  speak  of  death  with  fear,  and  weep. 
Shall  my  soul  perish  ?    Never  I  never  I 

I  know  that  Thou  wilt  never  leave 
The  soul  that  trembles  while  it  clings 

To  Thee  :  I  know  Thou  wilt  achieve 
Its  passage  on  Thine  outspread  wings. 

And  since  I  first  was  brought  so  near 
The  stream  that  flows  to  the  Dead  Sea, 

I  think  that  it  has  grown  more  clear 
And  shallow  than  it  used  to  be. 

I  can  not  see  the  golden  gate 
Unfolding  yet,  to  welcome  me  ; 

I  can  not  yet  anticipate 
The  joy  of  heaven's  jubilee  ; 

But  I  will  calmly  watch  and  pray 
Until  I  hear  my  Saviour's  voice 

Calling  my  happy  soul  away, 
To  see  His  glory  and  rejoice. 


''ALL,  ALL  IS  KNOWN  TO  THEE^ 

"  When  my  spirit  was  overwhelmed  within  me,  then  Thou 
knewest  my  path." 

JV/I Y  God,  whose  gracious  pity  I  may  claim, 

Calling  Thee  Father — sweet,  endearing  name  I 
The  sufferings  of  this  weak  and  weary  frame 
All,  all  are  known  to  Thee. 

From  human  eye  't  is  better  to  conceal 
Much  that  I  suffer,  much  I  hourly  feel ; 
But  oh  !  the  thought  does  tranquillize  and  heal — 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

Each  secret  conflict  with  indwelling  sin, 
Each  sickening  fear  I  ne'er  the  prize  shall  win, 
Each  pang  from  irritation,  turmoil,  din — 
All,  all  are  known  to  Thee. 

When  in  the  morning  unrefreshed  I  wake, 
Or  in  the  night  but  little  sleep  can  take, 
This  brief  appeal  submissively  I  make — 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

Nay,  all  by  Thee  is  ordered,  chosen,  planned — 
Each  drop  that  fills  my  daily  cup  ;  Thy  hand 
Prescribes  for  ills  none  else  can  understand. 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

The  effectual  means  to  cure  what  I  deplore, 
In  me  Thy  longed-for  likeness  to  restore  ; 
Self  to  dethrone,  never  to  govern  more — 
All,  all  are  known  to  thee. 


i6  '*mu  Bll  is  Iknown  to  Zbcc*' 

And  this  continued  feebleness,  this  state 
Which  seems  to  unnerve  and  incapacitate, 
Will  work  the  cure  my  hopes  and  prayers  await — 
That  can  I  leave  to  Thee. 

Nor  will  the  bitter  draught  distasteful  prove, 
When  I  recall  the  Son  of  Thy  dear  love  ; 
The  cup  Thou  wouldst  not  for  our  sakes  remove — 
That  cup  He  drank  for  me. 

He  drank  it  to  the  dregs — no  drop  remained 
Of  wrath,  for  those  whose  cup  of  woe  He  drained  ; 
Man  ne'er  can  know  what  the  sad  cup  contained. 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

And  welcome,  precious,  can  his  Spirit  make 
My  little  drop  of  suffering  for  His  sake. 
Father,  the  cup  I  drink,  the  path  I  take. 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 


OH!  FOR  THE  HAPPY  DAYS  GONE  BY, 

/^H  !  for  the  happy  days  gone  by. 

When  love  ran  smooth  and  free ; 
Days  when  my  spirit  so  enjoyed 
More  than  earth's  liberty  ! 

Oh  !  for  the  times  when  on  my  heart 

Long  prayer  had  never  palled  ; 
Times  when  the  ready  thought  of  God 

Would  come  when  it  was  called  ! 

Then  when  I  knelt  to  meditate, 
Sweet  thoughts  came  o'er  my  soul. 

Countless,  and  bright,  and  beautiful, 
Beyond  my  own  control. 


Ob  I  tot  tbe  Ibappi?  2)a^0  ©one  bg  17 

Oh  !  who  hath  locked  those  fountains  up  ? 

Those  visions  who  hath  staid  ? 
"What  sudden  act  hath  thus  transformed 

My  sunshine  into  shade  ? 

This  freezing  heart,  O  Lord  !  this  will, 

Dry  as  the  desert  sand — 
Good  thoughts  that  will  not  come,  bad  thoughts 

That  come  without  command— 

A  faith  that  seems  not  faith,  a  hope 

That  cares  not  for  its  aim — 
A  love  that  none  the  hotter  grows 

At  Jesus*  blessed  name — 

The  weariness  of  prayer,  the  mist 

O'er  conscience  overspread — 
The  chill  repugnance  to  frequent 

The  feast  of  angels'  bread  : 

If  this  drear  change  be  Thine,  O  Lord » 

If  it  be  Thy  sweet  will, 
Spare  not,  but  to  the  very  brim 

The  bitter  chalice  fill ; 

But  if  it  hath  been  sin  of  mine, 

Oh  I  show  that  sin  to  me — 
Not  to  get  back  the  sweetness  lost. 

But  to  make  peace  with  Thee. 

One  thing  alone,  dear  Lord,  I  dread — 

To  have  a  secret  spot 
That  separates  my  soul  from  Thee, 

And  yet  to  know  it  not. 


i8  ©b!  for  tbe  Ibapps  Da^s  (5one  big 

Oh  !  when  the  tide  of  graces  set 

So  full  upon  my  heart, 
I  know,  dear  Lord,  how  faithlessly 

I  did  my  little  part. 

I  know  how  well  my  heart  hath  earned 

A  chastisement  like  this. 
In  trifling  many  a  grace  away 

In  self-complacent  bliss. 

But  if  this  weariness  hath  come 

A  present  from  on  high. 
Teach  me  to  find  the  hidden  wealth 

That  in  its  depths  may  lie  ; 

So  in  this  darkness  I  can  learn 

To  tremble  and  adore. 
To  sound  my  own  vile  nothingness, 

And  thus  to  love  Thee  more  ; 

To  love  Thee,  and  yet  not  to  think 

That  I  can  love  so  much  ; 
To  have  Thee  with  me,  Lord  !  all  day, 

Yet  not  to  feel  Thy  touch. 

If  I  have  served  Thee,  Lord  !  for  hire, 
Hire  which  Thy  beauty  showed. 

Ah  !  I  can  serve  Thee  now  for  naught. 
And  only  as  my  God. 

Oh  I  blessed  be  this  darkness,  then, 

This  deep  in  which  I  lie  : 
And  blessed  be  all  things  that  teach 

God's  dread  supremacy ! 


LOST  TREASURES. 

f  ET  us  be  patient — God  has  taken  from  us 
'  ^    The  earthly  treasures  upon  which  we  leaned, 
That  from  the  fleeting  things  which  lie  around  us, 
Our  clinging  hearts  should  be  forever  weaned. 

They  have  passed  from  us — all  our  broad  possessions  : 
Ships,  whose  white  sails  flung  wide  past  distant  shores  ; 

Lands,  whose  rich  harvests  smiled  in  the  glad  sunshine  : 
Silver  and  gold,  and  all  our  hoarded  stores. 

And,  dearer  far,  the  pleasant  home  where  gathered 
Our  loved  and  loving  round  the  blazing  hearth. 

Where  honored  age  on  the  soft  cushions  rested, 
And  childhood  played  about  in  froUc  mirth. 

Where  underneath  the  softened  light  bent  kindly 
The  mother's  tender  glance  on  daughters  fair. 

And  he  on  whom  all  leant  with  fond  confiding, 
Rested  contented  from  his  daily  care. 

All  shipwrecked  in  one  common  desolation  I 
The  garden-walks  by  other  feet  are  trod  ; 

The  clinging  vines  by  other  fingers  tutored 
To  fling  their  shadows  o'er  the  grassy  sod. 

While  carking  care  and  deep  humiliation 
In  tears  are  mingled  with  their  daily  bread  ; 

And  the  rude  blasts  we  never  thought  could  reach  us, 
Have  spent  their  worst  on  each  defenceless  head. 

Let  us  be  cheerful  I    The  same  sky  o'erarches — 
Soft  rain  falls  on  the  evil  and  the  good  ; 

19 


20  Xo0t  ZtcasntcB 

On  narrow  walls,  and  through  our  humbler  dwelling, 
God's  glorious  sunshine  pours  as  rich  a  flood. 

Faith,  hope,  and  love  still  in  our  hearts  abiding, 
May  bear  their  precious  fruits  in  us  the  same, 

And  to  tlie  couch  of  suffering  we  may  carry, 
If  but  the  cup  of  water,  in  His  name. 

Let  us  be  thankful,  if  in  this  affliction 
No  grave  is  opened  for  the  loving  heart ; 

And  while  we  bend  beneath  our  Father's  chiding, 
We  yet  can  mourn  "  each  family  apart." 

Shoulder  to  shoulder  let  us  breast  the  torrent, 
With  not  one  cold  reproach  nor  angry  look  ; 

There  are  some  seasons,  when  the  heart  is  smitten, 
It  can  no  whisper  of  unkindness  brook. 

Our  life  is  not  in  all  these  brief  possessions  ; 

Our  home  is  not  in  any  pleasant  spot : 
Pilgrims  and  strangers,  we  must  journey  onward, 

Contented  with  the  portion  of  our  lot. 

These  earthly  walls  must  shortly  be  dismantled  ; 

These  earthly  tents  be  struck  by  angel  hands  ; 
But  to  be  built  upon  a  sure  foundation. 

There,  where  our  Father's  mansion  ever  stands. 

There  shall  we  meet,  parent  and  child,  and  dearer 
That  earthly  love  which  makes  half  heaven  of  home 

There  shall  we  find  our  treasures  all  awaiting. 
Where  change  and  death  and  parting  never  come. 


SUNDAY. 
"I  was  in  the  spirit  on  the  Lord's  day."— Rev.  1  :  10. 

A  FTER  long  days  of  storms  and  showers, 
^^    Of  sighing  winds,  and  dripping  bowers, 


SunDai3 

How  sweet,  at  morn,  to  ope  our  eyes 
On  newly  "  sweet  and  garnished"  skies  I 

To  miss  the  clouds,  and  driving  rain, 
And  see  that  all  is  bright  again — 
So  bright  we  can  not  choose  but  say. 
Is  this  the  world  of  yesterday  ? 

Even  so,  me  thinks,  the  Sunday  brings 
A  change  o'er  all  familiar  things  ; 
A  change — we  know  not  whence  it  came— 
They  are,  and  they  are  not,  the  same. 

There  is  a  spell  within,  around. 
On  eye  and  ear,  on  sight  and  sound  ; 
And,  loth  or  willing,  they  and  we 
Must  own  this  day  a  mystery. 

Sure  all  things  wear  a  heavenly  dress 
That  sanctifies  their  loveliness, — 
Types  of  that  endless  resting-day, 
When  "  we  shall  all  be  changed  "  as  they. 

To-day  our  peaceful,  ordered  home 
Foreshadoweth  mansions  yet  to  come  ; 
We  foretaste,  in  domestic  love, 
The  faultless  charities  above. 

And  as  at  yester-eventide 
Our  tasks  and  toys  were  laid  aside, 
Lo  !  here  our  training  for  the  day 
When  we  shall  lay  them  down  for  aye. 

But  not  alone  for  musings  deep. 

Meek  souls  their  "  day  of  days  "  will  keep  : 


Yet  other  glorious  things  than  these 
The  Christian  in  his  Sabbath  sees. 

His  eyes,  by  faith,  his  Lord  behold  ; 
How  on  the  week's  first  day  of  old 
From  hell  he  rose,  on  Death  he  trod, 
Was  seen  of  men,  and  went  to  God. 

And  as  we  fondly  pause  to  look 
Where  in  some  daily -handled  book, 
Approval's  well-known  tokens  stand. 
Traced  by  some  dear  and  thoughtful  hand 

Even  so  there  shines  one  day  in  seven 
Bright  with  the  special  mark  of  Heaven, 
That  we  with  love  and  praise  may  dwell 
On  Him  who  loveth  us  so  well. 

Whether  in  meditative  walk. 
Alone  with  God  and  heaven  we  talk, 
Catching  the  simple  chime  that  calls 
Our  feet  to  some  old  church's  walls  ; 

Or  passed  within  the  church's  door. 
Where  poor  are  rich,  and  rich  are  poor, 
We  say  the  prayers  and  hear  the  word, 
Which  there  our  fathers  said  and  heard ; 

Or  represent  in  solemn  wise 
Our  all-prevailing  sacrifice  ; 
Feeding  in  joint  communion  high, 
The  life  of  faith  that  can  not  die. 

And  surely,  in  a  world  like  this, 
So  rife  with  woe,  so  scant  of  bliss— 


Where  fondest  hopes  are  oftenest  crossed, 
And  fondest  hopes  are  severed  most ; 

'T  is  something  that  we  kneel  and  pray 
With  loved  ones  near  and  far  away  ; 
One  God,  one  faith,  one  hope,  one  care, 
One  form  of  words,  one  hour  of  prayer. 

'T  is  just — yet  pause,  till  ear  and  heart, 
In  one  brief  silence,  ere  we  part, 
Somewhat  of  that  high  strain  have  caught, 
"The  peace  of  God  which  passeth  thought." 

Then  turn  we  to  our  earthly  homes. 
Not  doubting  but  that  Jesus  comes, 
Breathing  His  peace  on  hall  and  hut 
At  evening,  when  the  doors  are  shut. 

Then  speeds  us  on  our  work-day  way, 
And  hallows  every  common  day  ; 
Without  Him  Sunday's  self  were  dim, 
But  all  are  bright,  if  spent  with  Him, 


ONE  BY  ONE. 

/^NE  by  one  the  sands  are  flowing, 
One  by  one  the  moments  fall ; 
Some  are  coming,  some  are  going — 
Do  not  strive  to  grasp  them  all. 

One  by  one  thy  duties  wait  thee, 
Let  thy  whole  strength  go  to  each  ; 

Let  no  future  dreams  elate  thee  ; 
Learn  thou  first  what  those  can  teach. 


24  Qnc  1)12  ^ne 

One  by  one  (bright  gifts  from  heaven) 
Joys  are  sent  thee  here  below  ; 

Take  them  readily,  when  given- 
Ready,  too,  to  let  them  go. 

One  by  one  thy  griefs  shall  meet  thee, 
Do  not  fear  an  armed  band  ; 

One  will  fade,  while  others  greet  thee, 
Shadows  passing  through  the  land. 

Do  not  look  at  life's  long  sorrow, 
See  how  small  each  moment's  pain ; 

God  will  help  thee  for  to-morrow — 
Every  day  begin  again. 

Every  hour  that  fleets  so  slowly, 
Has  its  task  to  do  or  bear  ; 

Luminous  the  crown,  and  holy. 
If  thou  set  each  gem  with  care 

Do  not  linger  with  regretting. 
Or  for  passion's  hour  despond, 

Nor,  the  daily  toil  forgetting. 
Look  too  eagerly  beyond. 

Hours  are  golden  links,  God's  token, 
Reaching  heaven,  but  one  bj-  one 

Take  them,  lest  the  chain  be  broken 
Ere  the  pilgrimage  be  done. 


MARY'S  CHOICE. 

lESUS,  engrave  it  on  my  heart, 
*^    That  Thou  the  one  thing  needful  art ; 
I  could  from  all  things  parted  be, 
But  never,  never.  Lord,  from  Thee. 


flSari^'e  Cbotce  25 

Needful  is  Thy  most  precious  blood, 
Needful  is  Thy  correcting  rod ; 
Needful  is  Thy  indulgent  care, 
Needful  Thy  all-prevailing  prayer. 

Needful  Thy  presence,  dearest  Lord, 
True  peace  and  comfort  to  afford  ; 
Needful  Thy  promise  to  impart 
Fresh  life  and  vigor  to  my  heart. 


Needful  art  Thou  to  be  my  stay 
Through  all  life's  dark  and  thorny  way  ; 
Nor  less  in  death  Thou  'It  needful  be, 
To  bring  my  spirit  home  to  Thee. 

Then  needful  still,  my  God,  my  King, 
Thy  name  eternally  I  '11  sing  ; 
Glory  and  praise  be  ever  His — 
The  "  one  thing  needful "  Jesus  is. 


''NEARER  HOME."* 

/^NE  sweetly  solemn  thought 
^^    Comes  to  me  o'er  and  o'er ; 
I  am  nearer  home  to-day 
Than  I  ever  have  been  before  : 

Nearer  my  Father's  house. 
Where  the  many  mansions  be  ; 

Nearer  the  great  white  throne. 
Nearer  the  crystal  sea  : 


♦  As  this  poem  has  suffered  many  changes  in  the  various  reprints, 
the  author,  in  the  year  1867,  furnished  this  correct  copy. 


26  **  flearcr  f)ome  ** 

Nearer  the  bound  of  life, 
Where  we  lay  our  burdens  down; 

Nearer  leaving  the  cross, 
Nearer  gaining  the  crown. 

But  lying  darkly  between, 
Winding  down  through  the  night 

Is  the  silent,  unknown  stream, 
That  leads  at  last  to  the  light. 

Closer  and  closer  my  steps 
Come  to  the  dark  abysm  ; 

Closer  death  to  my  lips 
Presses  the  awful  chrysm. 

Oh,  if  my  mortal  feet 
Have  almost  gained  the  brink ; 

If  it  be  I  am  nearer  home, 
Even  to-day  than  I  think  ; 

Father,  perfect  my  trust, 
Let  my  spirit  feel  in  death, 

That  her  feet  are  firmly  set 
On  the  rock  of  a  living  faith  I 


OH!  TO  BE  BEADY, 

r\B. !  to  be  ready  when  death  shall  come  ; 
^^^     Oh  !  to  be  ready  to  hasten  home  I 
No  earthward  clinging,  no  lingering  gaze. 
No  strife  at  parting,  no  sore  amaze  ; 
No  chains  to  sever  that  earth  hath  twined. 
No  spell  to  loosen  that  love  would  bind. 


©b !  to  be  •ReaDB  27 

No  flitting  shadows  to  dim  the  light 

Of  the  angel-pinions  winged  for  flight ; 

No  cloud-like  phantoms  to  fling  a  gloom 

Twixt  heaven's  bright  portals  and  earth's  dark 

tomb; 
But  sweetly,  gently,  to  pass  away 
From  the  world's  dim  twilight  into  day. 

To  list  the  music  of  angel  lyres, 
To  catch  the  rapture  of  seraph  fires, 
To  lean  in  trust  on  the  risen  One, 
Till  borne  away  to  a  fadeless  throne. 
Oh  !  to  be  ready  when  death  shall  come  I 
Oh  I  to  be  ready  to  hasten  home  ! 


THE  BRIDEGROOM'S  DOVE, 

**  O  my  Dove  1  in  the  clefts  of  the  rock,  in  the  secret  of  the 
stairs."— Cant.  2 :  14. 

"MY  DOVE ! "    The  Bridegroom  speaks.     To 
^^^        whom? 

Whom,  think'st  thou,  meaneth  He? 
Say,  O  my  soul !  canst  thou  presume 

He  thus  addresseth  thee  ? 
Yes,  'tis  the  Bridegroom's  voice  of  love, 
Calling  thee,  O  my  soul.  His  Dove  I 

The  Dove  is  gentle,  mild,  and  meek: 

Deserve  I,  then,  the  name? 
I  look  within  in  vain  to  seek 

Aught  which  can  give  a  claim  ; 
Yet,  made  so  by  redeeming  love, 
My  soul,  thou  art  the  Bridegroom's  Dove  I 


28  ;rbe  :!Btit>cQxoom*6  5)ove 

Methinks,  my  soul,  that  thou  may'st  see, 

In  this  endearing  word, 
Reasons  why  Jesus  likens  thee 

To  this  defenseless  bird  ; 
Reasons  which  show  the  Bridegroom's  love 
To  His  poor,  helpless,  timid  Dove  I 

The  Dove,  of  all  the  feathered  tribe, 

Doth  least  of  power  possess 
My  soul:  what  better  can  describe 

Thine  utter  helplessness  ? 
Yet  courage  take  I  the  Bridegroom's  love 
Will  keep,  defend,  protect  His  Dove  I 

The  Dove  hath  neither  claw  nor  sting, 

Nor  weapon  for  the  fight ; 
She  owes  her  safety  to  her  wing, 

Her  victory  to  flight. 
A  shelter  hath  the  Bridegroom's  love 
Provided  for  His  helpless  Dove. 


The  Hawk  comes  on,  in  eager  chase — 

The  Dove  will  not  resist ; 
In  flying  to  her  hiding-place, 

Her  safety  doth  consist. 
The  Bridegroom  opes  His  arms  of  love, 
And  in  them  folds  His  panting  Dove  I 

Nothing  the  Dove  can  now  molest, 
Safe  from  the  fowler's  snare  ; 

The  Bridegroom's  bosom  is  her  nest — 
Nothing  can  harm  her  there. 

Encircled  by  the  arms  of  love. 

Almighty  power  protects  the  Dove  I 


Zbc  JBriDegroom'9  Dove  29 

As  the  poor  Dove,  before  the  Hawk, 

Quick  to  her  refuge  flies, 
So  need  I,  in  my  daily  walk, 

The  wing  which  faith  supplies, 
To  bear  me  where  the  Bridegroom's  love 
Places  beyond  all  harm  His  Dove ! 

My  soul,  of  native  power  bereft, 

To  Calvary  repairs  ; 
Immanuel  is  the  rocky  cleft ^ 

"  The  secret  of  the  stairs  I " 
Since  placed  there  by  the  Bridegroom's  love, 
What  evil  can  befall  His  Dove  ? 


Though  Sinai's  thunder  round  her  roars. 
Though  Ebal's  lightnings  flash. 

Though  heaven  a  fiery  torrent  pours. 
And  riven  mountains  crash — 

Through  all,  the  "  still  small  voice"  of  love 

Whispers  :  "Be  not  afraid,  my  Dove ! " 

What  though  the  heavens  away  may  pass, 

With  fervent  heat  dissolve. 
And  round  the  sun  this  earthly  mass 

No  longer  shall  revolve  ? 
Behold  a  miracle  of  love  ! 
The  lion  quakes,  but  not  the  Dove  I 

My  soul,  now  hid  within  a  rock 

(The  "Rock  of  Ages "  called), 
Amid  the  universal  shock 

Is  fearless,  unappalled : 
A  cleft  therein,  prepared  by  love, 
In  safety  hides  the  Bridegroom's  Dove  t 


30  ^be  :fBti^cQxoom*e  Wove 

O  happy  Dove  !  thus  weak,  thus  safe, 

Do  I  resemble  her  ? 
Then  to  my  soul,  O  Lord  !  vouchsafe 

A  dove-like  character  I 
Pure,  harmless,  gentle,  full  of  love, 
Make  me  in  spirit.  Lord,  a  Dove  I 

O  Thou,  who  on  the  Bridegroom's  head 
Didst,  as  a  Dove,  come  down. 

Within  my  soul  Thy  graces  shed, 
Establish  there  Thy  throne  ; 

There  shed  abroad  a  Saviour's  love. 

Thou  holy,  pure,  and  heavenly  Dove  ! 


GOD,  MY  EXCEEDING  JOY 

Psalm  43 :  4. 

C  ARLY  my  spirit  turned 

From  earthly  things  away, 
And  agonized  and  yearned 

For  the  eternal  day  ; 
Dimly  I  saw,  when  but  a  boy, 

God,  my  exceeding  joy. 

In  days  of  fiercer  flame. 

When  passion  urged  me  on, 
'Twas  only  bliss  in  name — 

The  pleasure  soon  was  gone. 
Compared  with  Thee,  how  all  things  cloy, 

God,  my  exceeding  joy  I 

At  length  the  moment  came — 
Jesus  made  known  His  love  ; 


0OD,  /ftg  JBlCCCDtng  50fi  31 

High  shot  the  kindling  flame 

To  glories  all  above. 
Now  all  my  powers  one  theme  employ 

God,  my  exceeding  joy. 

Shadows  come  on  apace  ; 

Tears  were  a  pensive  shower ; 
I  cried  for  timely  grace 

To  save  me  from  the  hour  ; 
Thou  gavest  peace  without  alloy, 

God,  my  exceeding  joy. 

One  trial  yet  awaits, 

Gigantic  at  the  close  ; 
All  that  my  spirit  hates 

May  then  my  peace  oppose  ; 
But  God  shall  this  last  foe  destroy ; 

God,  my  exceeding  joy. 


GOD'S  SUPPORT  AND  GUIDANCE. 

TRANSLATED  PROM  THE  GERMAN. 

CORSAKE  me  not,  my  God, 
*       Thou  God  of  my  salvation  I 
Give  me  Thy  light,  to  be 

My  sure  illumination. 
My  soul  to  folly  turns. 

Seeking  she  knows  not  what ; 
Oh !  lead  her  to  Thyself— 

My  God,  forsake  me  not  I 

Forsake  me  not,  my  God  I 
Take  not  Thy  spirit  from  me, 


32  (5oD*0  Support  anD  (BuiOance 

And  suffer  not  the  might 
Of  sin  to  overcome  me. 

A  father  pitieth 
The  children  he  begot ; 

My  Father,  pity  me — 
My  God,  forsake  me  not  I 


Forsake  me  not,  my  God  I 

Thou  God  of  life  and  power, 
Enliven,  strengthen  me 

In  every  evil  hour  ; 
And  when  the  sinful  fire 

Within  my  heart  is  hot, 
Be  not  Thou  far  from  me — 

My  God,  forsake  me  not  I 


Forsake  me  not,  my  God  ! 

Uphold  me  in  my  going, 
That  evermore  I  may 

Please  Thee  in  all  well-doing. 
And  that  Thy  will,  O  Lord, 

May  never  be  forgot, 
In  all  my  works  and  ways — 

My  God,  forsake  me  not  I 


Forsake  me  not,  my  God  ! 

I  would  be  thine  forever  I 
Confirm  me  mightily 

In  every  right  endeavor  ; 
And  when  my  hour  is  come. 

Cleansed  from  all  stain  and  spot 
Of  sin,  receive  my  soul — 

My  God,  forsake  me  not  I 


I  AM. 

'  God  calls  himself  I  AM,  leaving  a  blank  which  each  soul  may 
fill  up  with  that  which  is  most  precious  to  himself." 

T^HOU  bidd'st  us  call,  and  giv'st  us  many  a  name, 

That  thou  may'st  hear  and  answer  every  cry, 
But — for  the  wants  of  all  are  not  the  same — 
Another  name  Thy  wondrous  love  did  try  ; 
To  Moses  first  Thou  gav'st  it,  and  he  knew 
Its  worth,  and  taught  us  how  to  prize  it,  too  : 
I  AM — let  every  sinner  kneel,  and  thank 
The  Lord,  and  with  his  wants  fill  up  the  blank. 
Thy  very  wounds  do  say,  each  drop  they  bleed, 
"I  AM  thy  need." 

Oh  I  I  am  weary  of  this  life, 

Of  all  its  vanity  and  care  ; 
Where  can  I  hide  me  from  its  strife, 

From  all  its  noises — where  ? 
My  spirit  sinks  beneath  the  load, 
I  pant  to  reach  a  safe  abode. 
When  shall  I  find  a  sweet  release? 
Remains  there  yet  a  lasting  peace, 
A  calm  for  my  long  storm-tost  breast? 
*' I  AM  thy  rest." 

Oh  I  I  am  full  of  grievous  sin, 
I  can  do  naught  that  's  right ; 

0  God  !  how  base  my  soul  is  in 
Thy  pure  and  holy  sight  I 

Thy  perfect  laws  I  daily,  hourly  break, 
And  will  not  yield  my  will  for  Thy  sweet  sake  ; 
Still  in  my  soul  do  burn  wicked  desires. 
And  my  hearths  altar  bears  unhallowed  fires  ; 

1  can  do  naught  but  all  these  things  confess, 
*'  I  AM  thy  righteousness." 


34  11  Bm 

But,  Lord,  I  am  so  weak,  so  weak, 

I  can  not  stand  before  Thy  face ; 
Thy  praises  I  can  hardly  speak, 

Hardly  stretch  forth  my  hands  for  grace  ; 
The  way  seems  long — the  burden  who  can  bear  ? 
Lord,  must  I  sink  beneath  the  load  of  care? 
Thus  is  it  now;  what  shall  it  be  at  length? 
"  I  AM  thy  strength." 


Lord,  I  must  die;  e'en  now  the  wing 
Of  Thy  dread  angel  hovereth  nigh  ; 
I  know  the  message  he  doth  bring — 

"  Soul,  thou  hast  sinned,  and  thou  must  die." 
All  nature  feels  and  owns  the  just  decree  ; 
And  is  this  all  that  is  in  store  for  me — 
Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  kindred  dust, 
No  hope,  no  light?    Surely  my  spirit  must 
Sink  in  despair  ere  nature's  last,  fierce  strife — 
"  I  AM  thy  life." 


Oh,  wonderful  Thou  art  I 

Too  wonderful  for  me  is  such  great  love, 
Shining  in  such  a  heart 

Like  sunbeams  from  above. 
How  rich  am  I !  yea,  all  things  I  possess — 
Peace,  joy,  life,  strength,  and  perfect  righteous- 
ness. 
Jehovah  shows  Himself,  and  gives  to  me 
All  my  desire.     Look,  trembling  soul !  and  see 
On  what  a  treasury  thy  want  may  call — 
"  I  AM  thine  all  in  all." 


A  LITTLE  WHILE. 

O  E YOND  the  smiling  and  the  weeping 

I  shall  be  soon  : 
Beyond  the  waking  and  the  sleeping, 
Beyond  the  sowing  and  the  reaping, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope  ! . 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  blooming  and  the  fading 

T  shall  be  soon  ; 
Beyond  the  shining  and  the  shading, 
Beyond  the  hoping  and  the  dreading, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  I 

Sweet  hope  I 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  rising  and  the  setting 

I  shall  be  soon  ; 
Beyond  the  calming  and  the  fretting, 
Beyond  remembering  and  forgetting, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope  ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  gathering  and  the  strewing 

I  shall  be  soon  ; 
Beyond  the  ebbing  and  the  flowing. 
Beyond  the  coming  and  the  going, 

I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  I 


36  n  Xittle  Timbtle 

Sweet  hope ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  parting  and  the  meeting 

I  shall  be  soon  ; 
Beyond  tlie  farewell  and  the  greeting, 
Beyond  this  pulse's  fever-beating, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  I 

Sweet  hope  ! 
Lord ,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  frost-chain  and  the  fever 

I  shall  be  soon  ; 
Beyond  the  rock-waste  and  the  river, 
Beyond  the  ever  and  the  never, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 


HINDER  ME  NOT. 

LJ INDER  me  not !  the  path  is  long  and  weary, 
*        I  may  not  pause  nor  tarry  by  the  way  ; 
Night  Cometh,  when  no  man  may  journey  onward, 
For  we  must  walk  as  children  of  the  day. 

I  know  the  city  lieth  fair  behind  me, 

The  very  brightest  gem  that  studs  the  plain  ; 

But  thick  and  fast  the  lurid  clouds  are  rising. 
Which  soon  shall  scatter  into  fiery  rain. 

I  must  press  on  until  I  reach  my  Zoar, 

And  there  find  refuge  from  the  fearful  blast : 

In  Thy  cleft  side,  O  smitten  Saviour  !  hide  me, 
Till  the  calamity  be  overpast. 


f)(nDer  /IBe  Bot  37 

Ye  can  not  tempt  me  back  with  pomp  or  pleasure, 
All,  in  my  eager  grasp,  have  turned  to  dust : 

The  shield  of  love  around  my  hearth  is  broken  ; 
How  shall  I  place  on  man's  frail  life  my  trust  ? 

But  my  heart  lingers  when  I  pass  the  dwellings 
Where  children  play  about  the  open  door  ; 

And  pleasant  voices  waken  up  the  echoes, 
From  silent  lips  of  those  I  see  no  more. 

For  through  their  chambers  swept  the  solemn 
warning, 
Arise  !  depart !  for  this  is  not  your  rest ; 
They  folded  their  pale  hands  and    sought  the 
presence — 
I  only  bore  the  arrow  in  my  breast. 

But  there  is  balm  in  Gilead,  and  a  Healer 
Whose  sovereign  power  can  cure  our  every  ill, 

And  to  the  soul,  more  wildly  tempest-tossing 
Than  ever  Galilee,  say  :  "  Peace,  be  still ! " 

Who,  showing  His  own  name  thereon  engraven, 
With  bleeding  hands  will  draw  the  dart  again, 

And  whisper  :  "  Should  the  true  disciple  murmur 
To  taste  the  cup  his  Master's  lip  could  drain?" 

And  then  lead  on  until  we  reach  the  river 
Which  all  must  cross,  and  some  must  cross  alone  : 

Oh  !  ye  who  in  the  land  of  peace  are  wearied. 
How  shall  ye  breast  the  Jordan's  swelling  moan  ? 

I  know  not  if  the  wave  shall  rage  or  slumber, 
When  I  shall  stand  upon  the  nearer  shore  ; 

But  One  whose  form  the  Son  of  God  resembleth, 
Will  cross  with  me,  and  I  shall  ask  no  more. 


38  f)in^er  ^e  flot 

O  weary  heads  !  rest  on  your  Saviour's  bosom  ; 

O  weary  feet !  press  on  the  path  He  trod  ; 
O  weary  souls  !  your  rest  shall  be  remaining, 

When  ye  have  gained  the  city  of  your  God. 

O  glorious  city  !  jasper  built,  and  shining 
With  God's  own  glory  in  effulgent  light, 

Wherein  no  manner  of  defilement  cometh. 
Nor  any  shadow  flung  from  passing  night. 

There  shall  ye  pluck  fruits  from  that  tree  immortal, 
And  be  like  gods,  but  find  no  curse  therein  ; 

There  shall  ye  slake  your  thirst  in  that  full  fountain 
Whose  distant  streams  sufficed  to  cleanse  your  sin. 

There  shall  ye  find  your  dead  in  Christ  arisen. 
And  learn  from  them  to  sing  the  angels'  song  ; 

Well  may  ye  echo  from  earth's  waiting  prison. 
The  martyr's  cry:  "  How  long,  O  Lord  I  how  long  ! " 


*'J  CLING   TO   thee:' 

r\  HOLY  Saviour,  Friend  unseen  I 
^■"^     Since  on  Thine  arm  Thou  bidd'st  me  lean, 
Help  me  throughout  life's  varying  scene — 
By  faith  I  cling  to  Thee. 

Blest  with  this  fellowship  divine. 
Take  what  Thou  wilt,  I  '11  ne'er  repine  : 
E'en  as  the  branches  to  the  vine. 

My  soul  would  cling  to  Thee. 


r 


**ir  Cling  to  nbcc*'  39 

Far  from  her  home,  fatigued,  oppressed, 
Here  has  she  found  her  place  of  rest, 
An  exile  still,  yet  not  unblessed, 
While  she  can  cling  to  Thee. 

What  though  the  world  deceitful  prove. 
And  earthly  friends  and  joys  remove. 
With  patient  uncomplaining  love, 
Still  would  I  cling  to  Thee. 

Though  faith  and  hope  may  long  be  tried, 
I  ask  not,  need  not  aught  beside  ; 
How  safe,  how  calm,  how  satisfied. 
The  soul  that  clings  to  Thee  I 


They  fear  not  Satan,  nor  the  grave  ; 
They  feel  Thee  near,  and  strong  to  save  ; 
Nor  dread  to  cross  e'en  Jordan's  wave. 
Because  they  cling  to  Thee  ! 


Blest  is  my  lot — whate'er  befall  ; 
What  can  disturb  me — who  appal  ? 
While,  as  my  strength,  my  rock,  my  all, 
Saviour,  I  cling  to  Thee  I 


''ALONE,  YET  NOT  ALONE.'' 

"IX/HEN  no  kind  earthly  friend  is  near, 
'  ^      With  gentle  words  my  heart  to  cheer 
Still  am  I  with  my  Saviour  dear  : 
"  Alone,  yet  not  alone." 


40  ^'Blone  ISct  tiot  Blone" 

Though  no  loved  forms  my  path  attend, 
With  tender  looks  o'er  me  to  bend, 
Yet  I  am  with  my  unseen  Friend  : 
*'  Alone,  yet  not  alone." 

When  sorely  racked  with  pain  and  grief, 
Here  I  can  find  a  sure  relief  ; 
And  I  rejoice  in  the  belief  : 

"  Alone,  yet  not  alone." 

'T  is  on  His  strength  that  I  rely, 
And  doubts  and  fears  at  once  defy, 
So  happy,  so  content  am  I, 

**  Alone,  yet  not  alone." 

E'en  when  with  friends  my  lot  is  cast, 
And  words  of  love  are  flowing  fast. 
Still  am  I,  when  those  hours  are  past, 
"  Alone,  yet  not  alone." 

If  all  my  earthly  friends  remove, 
My  fondest  wishes  empty  prove. 
Still  am  I  with  my  Saviour's  love 
"  Alone,  yet  not  alone." 

Whate'er  may  now  to  me  betide, 
I  have  a  place  wherein  to  hide 
By  faith:  't  is  e'en  at  His  blest  side  : 
"  Alofte,  yet  not  alone." 


THE  SCHOOL   OF  SUFFERING. 

*'  C  AVIOUR,  beneath  Thy  yoke 

My  wayward  heart  doth  pine  ; 
All  unaccustomed  to  the  stroke 
Of  love  divine  : 


Cbe  Scbool  ot  Suffering  41 

Thy  chastisements,  my  God,  are  hard  to  bear, 
Thy  cross  is  heavy  for  frail  flesh  to  wear." 

*'  Perishing  child  of  clay  I 

Th}^  sighing  I  have  heard  ; 
Long  have  I  marked  thy  evil  way, 
How  thou  hast  erred  I 
Yet  fear  not,  by  My  own  most  holy  Name 
I  will  shed  healing  through  thy  sin-sick  frame." 

*'  Praise  to  Thee,  gracious  Lord  ! 
I  fain  would  be  at  rest ; 
Oh  !  now  fulfil  Thy  faithful  word, 
And  make  me  blest ; 
My  soul  would  lay  her  heavy  burden  down. 
And  take,  with  joyfulness,  the  promised  crown." 

**  Stay,  thou  short-sighted  child  ! 
There  is  much  first  to  do — 
Thy  heart,  so  long  by  sin  defiled, 
I  must  renew  ; 
Thy  will  must  here  be  taught  to  bend  to  Mine, 
Or  the  sweet  peace  of  heaven  can  ne'er  be  thine." 

*'  Yea,  Lord,  but  Thou  canst  soon 
Perfect  Thy  work  in  me, 
Till,  like  the  pure,  calm  summer  noon, 
I  shine  by  Thee  ; 
A  moment  shine,  that  all  Thy  power  may  trace, 
Then  pass  in  stillness  to  my  heavenly  place." 

"  Ah  I  coward  soul,  confess 

Thou  shrinkest  from  My  cure, 
Thou  tremblest  at  the  sharp  distress 
Thou  must  endure. 
The  foes  on  every  hand  for  war  arrayed, 
The  thorny  path  in  tribulation  laid  ; 


42  (Tbe  Scbool  ot  Suffering 

*'  The  process  slow  of  years, 
The  discipHne  of  Hfe  ; 
Of  outward  woes  and  secret  tears, 
Sickness  and  strife  ; 
Thine  idols  taken  from  thee,  one  by  one, 
Till  thou  canst  dare  to  live  with  Me  alone. 


"  Some  gentle  souls  there  are, 
Who  yield  unto  My  love. 
Who,  ripening  fast  beneath  My  care, 
I  soon  remove  ; 
But  thou  stiff-necked  art,  and  hard  to  rule  ; 
Thou  must  stay  longer  in  affliction's  school." 

"  My  Maker  and  my  King  ! 
Is  this  Thy  love  to  me  ? 
Oh !  that  I  had  the  lightning's  wing. 
From  earth  to  flee  : 
How  can  I  bear  the  heavy  weight  of  woes 
Thine  indignation  on  the  creature  throws  ?  " 

"  Thou  canst  not,  O  My  child  : 
So  hear  My  voice  again  ; 
I  will  bear  all  thy  anguish  wild, 
Thy  grief,  thy  pain  : 
My  arms  shall  be  around  thee,  day  by  day, 
My  smile  shall  cheer  thee  on  thy  heavenward  way. 


"  In  sickness,  I  will  be 

Watching  beside  thy  bed  ; 
In  sorrow  thou  shalt  lean  on  Me 
Thy  aching  head ; 
In  every  struggle  thou  shalt  conqueror  prove, 
Nor  death  itself  shall  sever  from  My  love." 


BbiMng  witb  (5ot>  43 

"  O  grace  beyond  compare  ! 

0  love  most  high  and  pure  I 
Saviour,  begin,  no  longer  spare, 

1  can  endure ; 

Only  vouchsafe  Thy  grace,  that  I  may  live 
Unto  Thy  glory,  who  canst  so  forgive." 


ABIDING    WITH  GOD. 

I  ET  every  one,  whate'er  his  calling  be, 

Therein  abide  v^ith  God.     So  wrote  of  old 
St.  Paul  to  them  at  Corinth,  and  to  me 

With  loving  lips  to-night  that  truth  was  told. 
I  had  grown  weary  with  my  strifes  and  cares, 

And  murmured  at  the  service  of  the  day, 
Wherein  I  had  forgotten,  unawares. 

That  thus  I  still  might  honor  and  obey. 

Abide  with  God  !    Would  I  might  ne'er  forget, 

That  evermore  I  may  with  Him  abide  ! 
What  matters  how  or  when  the  stamp  is  set, 

Or  what  the  furnace  where  the  gold  is  tried. 
So  that  the  metal  has  the  sterling  ring. 

So  that  the  likeness  of  the  King  is  shown, — 
God's  coinage  still,  that  to  the  soul  will  bring 

Such  wealth  as  merchant  princes  have  not  known. 

In  market-places  where  the  race  is  swift. 

And  competition  on  temptation  waits  ; 
In  quiet  homes  where  unseen  currents  drift 

A  thousand  petty  cares  through  open  gates, — 
Let  each  and  all,  whate'er  the  calling  be, 

Therein  abide  with  God  I  from  break  of  day 
Till  set  of  sun  they  shall  His  purpose  see, 

And  serve  Him  in  His  own  appointed  way. 


44  ^be  pilgrim's  TMants 

So  let  me  see  and  serve,  and  thus  abide  ; 

Not  simply  patient,  or  at  best  content ; 
Not  with  eye-service,  wherein,  love  denied, 

In  rounds  of  duty  solemn  days  are  spent. 
Give  me,  O  Lord,  a  joy  that  is  divine. 

Touch  Thou  my  lips  with  constant  themes  of  praise ; 
Since,  having  Thee,  all  things  I  need  are  mine, 

Whate'er  my  lot,  whate'er  my  length  of  days. 


THE  PILGRIM'S   WANTS. 

I  WANT  that  adorning  divine. 

Thou,  only,  my  God,  canst  bestow  ; 
I  want  in  those  beautiful  garments  to  shine, 
Which  distinguish  Thy  household  below. 

Col.  3  :  12-17. 

I  want,  oh  I  I  want  to  attain 

Some  likeness,  my  Saviour,  to  Thee  : 
That  longed-for  resemblance  once  more  to  regain 

Thy  comeliness  put  upon  me. 

I  John  3  :  2,  3. 

I  want  to  be  marked  for  Thine  own  : 
Thy  seal  on  my  forehead  to  wear  ; 
To  receive  that  ' '  new  name "  on  the  mystic  white 
stone. 
Which  only  Thyself  canst  declare. 

Rev.  2  :  17. 

I  want,  every  moment,  to  feel 
That  the  Spirit  does  dwell  in  my  heart ; 

That  His  power  is  present  to  cleanse  and  to  heal, 
And  newness  of  life  to  impart. 

Rom.  8 :  11-16. 


^be  iptldttm'd  TKHante  45 

I  want  so  in  Thee  to  abide, 

As  to  bring  forth  some  fruit  to  Thy  praise, 
The  branch  that  Thou  prunest,  though  feeble  and 
dried, 
May  languish,  but  never  decays. 

John  15 ;  2-5. 

I  want  Thine  own  hand  to  unbind 

Each  tie  to  terrestrial  things, 
Too  tenderly  cherished,  too  closely  entwined, 

Where  my  heart  too  tenaciously  clings. 

I  John  2  :  15. 

I  want,  by  my  aspect  serene. 

My  actions,  and  words,  to  declare 
That  my  treasure  is  placed  in  a  country  unseen, 

That  my  heart  and  affections  are  there. 

Matt.  6 :  19-21. 

I  want,  as  a  traveller,  to  haste 
Straight  onward,  nor  pause  on  my  way  ; 

No  forethought  or  anxious  contrivance  to  waste 
On  my  tent,  only  pitched  for  a  day. 

Heb.  13  :  5,  6. 

I  want  (and  this  sums  up  my  prayer) 

To  glorify  Thee  till  I  die  ; 
Then  calmly  to  yield  up  my  soul  to  Thy  care, 

And  breathe  out  in  prayer  my  last  sigh. 

Phil.  3  :  8,  9. 


HEAVEN. 

r\B.  I  heaven  is  nearer  than  mortals  think, 
^^    When  they  look  with  a  trembling  dread 
At  the  misty  future  that  stretches  on, 
From  the  silent  home  of  the  dead. 


46  l)eaven 

'T  is  no  lone  isle  on  a  boundless  main 

No  brilliant  but  distant  shore, 
Where  the  lovely  ones  who  are  called  away 

Must  go  to  return  no  more. 

No,  heaven  is  near  us  ;  the  mighty  veil 

Of  mortality  blinds  the  eye, 
That  we  can  not  see  the  angel  bands, 

On  the  shores  of  eternity. 

The  eye  that  shuts  in  a  dying  hour, 

Will  open  the  next  in  bliss  ; 
The  welcome  will  sound  in  the  heavenly  world, 

Ere  the  farewell  is  hushed  in  this. 


We  pass  from  the  clasp  of  mourning  friends, 
To  the  arms  of  the  loved  and  lost, 

And  those  smiling  faces  will  greet  us  there 
Which  on  earth  we  have  valued  most. 


Yet  oft  in  the  hours  of  holy  thought, 

To  the  thirsting  soul  is  given 
That  power  to  pierce  through  the  mist  of  sense, 

To  the  beauteous  scenes  of  heaven. 

Then  very  near  seem  its  pearly  gates. 

And  sweetly  its  harpings  fall ; 
Till  the  soul  is  restless  to  soar  away, 

And  longs  for  the  angel's  call. 

I  know  when  the  silver  cord  is  loosed, 

When  the  veil  is  rent  away. 
Not  long  and  dark  shall  the  passage  be, 

To  the  realms  of  endless  day. 


A  VOICE  FROM  HEAVEN 

T  SHINE  in  the  light  of  God, 

His  image  stamps  my  brow  ; 
Through  the  shadows  of  Death  my  feet  have  trod, 

And  I  reign  in  glory  now. 
No  breaking  heart  is  here, 

No  keen  and  thrilling  pain  ; 
No  wasted  cheek,  where  the  burning  tear 

Hath  rolled,  and  left  its  stain, 

I  have  found  the  joys  of  heaven, 

I  am  one  of  the  angel  band  ; 
To  my  head  a  crown  is  given, 

And  a  harp  is  in  my  hand  ; 
I  have  learned  the  song  they  sing, 

Whom  Jesus  hath  made  free. 
And  the  glorious  walls  of  heaven  still  ring 

With  my  new-born  melody. 

No  sin,  no  grief,  no  pain — 

Safe  in  my  happy  home  : 
My  fears  all  fled,  my  doubts  all  slain, 

My  hour  of  triumph  come. 
Oh,  friends  of  my  mortal  years  ! 

The  trusted  and  the  true. 
You  're  walking  still  the  vale  of  tears, 

But  I  wait  to  welcome  you. 

Do  I  forget  ?    Oh  !  no, 

For  memory's  golden  chain 
Shall  bind  my  heart  to  the  hearts  below, 

Till  they  meet  and  touch  again; 
Each  link  is  strong  and  bright, 

While  love's  electric  flame 
Flows  freely  down,  like  a  river  of  light, 

To  the  world  from  whence  I  came. 
47 


48  Supplication 

Do  you  mourn  when  another  star 

Shines  out  from  the  glorious  sky  ? 
Do  you  weep  when  the  voice  of  war 

And  the  rage  of  conflict  die  ? 
Why  then  should  your  tears  roll  down, 

Or  your  heart  be  sorely  riven, 
For  another  gem  in  the  Saviour's  crown, 

And  another  soul  in  heaven  ? 


SUPPLICATION. 

f  ORD,  hear  my  prayer  ! 

Turn  not  Thine  ear  from  my  distress, 
But  with  Thy  loving  mercy  bless, 
Lest  I  despair. 

Be  gracious,  Lord  I 
My  soul  is  oft  opprest  and  weak ; 
Oh  I  aid  when  I  comfort  seek 

In  Thy  blest  word. 

My  footsteps  stray  ; 
I  wander  oft  from  the  road 
That  leads  to  peace  and  Thee,  my  God. 

Teach  Thou  the  way. 

Oh  !  make  me  pure, 
Clothe  Thou  my  soul  in  spotless  white, 
That  my  acceptance  in  Thy  sight 

Be  always  sure. 

Let  me  be  one 
Of  all  the  sinless  company 
That  round  Thy  throne  hosannas  sing 

Through  Christ  Thy  Son. 


levcninQ  prater  49 

Thy  will  be  done 
On  earth,  as  by  each  holy  one, 
Thy  own  redeemed,  who  near  Thy  throne 

Bow  down  the  knee  I 


EVENING  PRAYER, 

UATHER  of  mercy,  at  the  close  of  day, 

My  work  and  duties  done,  to  Thee  I  pray 

Before  I  sleep ; 
With  clasped  hands  I  humbly  bow  my  head, 
And  ask  Thee,  Lord,  ere  I  retire  to  bed, 

My  soul  to  keep. 

The  sins  and  failings  of  the  day  now  past, 
The  shadows  on  my  soul  that  they  have  cast, 

Do  Thou  forgive  ; 
Oh  I  purge  my  life  from  every  taint  of  sin, 
That  I  within  Thy  courts  may  enter  in, 

With  Thee  to  live. 

Whatever  sorrow  I  this  day  have  known, 

I  spread  it  now,  O  Lord  !  before  Thy  throne — 

Oh  !  succor  send ; 
I  would  beneath  Thy  chastening  hand  be  still. 
And  meekly  bow  before  Thy  sovereign  will, 

Unto  the  end. 

And  now,  with  folded  hands  upon  my  breast , 
At  peace  with  Thee,  I  lay  me  down  to  rest 

Upon  my  bed ; 
May  angels  guard  me  through  the  darksome  night 
From  troubled  dreams,  until  the  morning  light 

Its  beams  shall  shed. 


THE  WANDERING  HEART. 

A  LAS  !  for  the  wildly  wandering  heart, 

And  its  changing  idol  guests  ! 
It  has  roamed  away  to  the  world's  far  ends, 

At  the  vagrant  wind's  behests. 
More  fleet  in  its  course  than  the  flying  dart — 
Alas  I  for  the  wandering  heart. 

Go,  bind  it  with  Memory's  holiest  spells, 

But  it  recks  not  the  things  of  old  ; 
Go,  chain  it  in  Gratitude's  surest  cells, 

With  fetters  more  precious  than  gold  : 
Yet  ever,  oh  I  ever,  it  will  depart — 

Alas  !  for  the  wandering  heart. 

Is  it  gone  up  to  listen  at  heaven's  gate, 

To  Gabriel's  lyre  of  praise  ? 
And  to  catch  the  deep  chanting  where  seraphs  wait 

As  a  lesson  for  its  mortal  lays  ? 
Oh,  no  !  for  it  loves  from  such  lessons  to  part — 

Alas  I  for  the  wandering  heart. 

It  loves  on  a  worthless  and  treacherous  world 

To  bestow  its  high  desires  ; 
And  the  lamp  which  it  ought  to  be  lighting  in 
heaven, 

It  kindles  at  idol  fires. 
Full  seldom  it  turns  to  its  guiding  chart — 

Alas  I  for  the  wandering  heart. 

It  needs  to  be  steeped  in  the  briny  wave 

Of  affliction's  billowy  sea, 
And  salt  tears  must  water  its  way  to  the  grave. 

Ere  it  will  from  these  vanities  flee. 
It  must  ever  be  feeling  the  chastening  smart — 

Alas  !  for  the  wandering  heart. 

50 


'*1Return  tibee  to  ^b^  IRcet**  51 

My  Father !  my  Father !  this  heart  would  be  Thine ; 

Restore  from  its  wanderings  ; 
Oh  !  visit  and  nourish  Thy  wilderness  vine, 

Though  it  be  from  the  bitter  springs  : 
Till  the  years  of  its  pruning  in  time  shall  be  o'er, 

And  its  shoots  in  eternity  wander  no  more  ! 


*'  RETURN  THEE  TO  THY  REST" 

DETURN,  return  thee  to  thine  only  rest, 
Lone  pilgrim  of  the  world  ! 
Far  erring  from  the^fold — 
By  the  dark  night  and  risen  storms  distressed  : 
List,  weary  lamb,  the  Shepherd's  anxious  voice, 
And  once  again  within  His  arms  rejoice. 

Return,  return,  thy  fair  white  fleece  is  soiled. 

And  by  sharp  briers  rent — 

Thy  little  strength  is  spent ; 
Yet  He  will  pity  thee,  thou  torn  and  spoiled. 
There,  thou  art  cradled  on  His  tender  breast : 
Now  never  more,  sweet  lamb,  forsake  that  rest. 

Return,  return,  my  soul :  be  like  this  lamb  ; 

Yet  can  it,  can  it  be 

That  thou  should'st  pardon  me. 
Thou  injured  love  !  all  ingrate  as  I  am  ; 
Once  again,  weary  of  earth's  trifling  things, 
False  as  the  desert's  far  and  shining  springs  ? 

Return,  return  to  thy  forsaken  Friend, 

So  long  despised,  forgot — 
That  now,  thou  wandering  heart,  't  were  just 

If  He  should  "  know  thee  not "; 
Yet  on,  press  on,  toward  the  mercy-seat, 
And  if  thou  perish,  perish  at  His  feet. 


52  Bear  Jceus 

Return,  return,  for  He  is  near  thee  dwelling, 

And  not  into  the  air 

Need  rise  the  sighs  of  prayer  ; 
Into  His  ear  thou  'rt  all  thy  sorrows  telling, 
Thou  need'st  not  speak  to  Him  through  spaces  wide, 
For  He  is  near  thee,  even  at  thy  side. 

**  Him  have  I  pierced  " — oh  !  I  come,  I  come  ; 

My  heart  is  broken.  Lord, 

It  needs  not  voice  nor  word  ; 
One  only  look  brought  Peter  back  of  yore ; 
How  bitterly  I  weep  as  then  he  wept ! 
Henceforth,  oh  !  keep  me,  and  I  shall  be  kept. 


NEAR  JESUS. 

T  WANT  to  live  near  Jesus, 

And  never  go  astray. 
To  feel  that  I  am  growing 

More  like  Him  every  day ; 
That  I  am  always  laying 

My  treasure  up  above, 
And  gaining  more  the  spirit 

Of  His  gentleness  and  love. 


I  want  such  steadfast  purpose 

My  mission  to  fulfil, 
That  it  may  be  my  meat  and  drink, 

To  do  my  Father's  will ; 
To  follow  in  His  footsteps. 

Who  never  turned  aside 
From  the  path  that  leads  to  heaven, 

Though  often  sorely  tried. 


•wabo  ffg  m^  JSrotbet?  53 

Oh  I  that  in  His  humility 

My  spirit  may  be  clad  ! 
That  I  may  have  the  patience 

My  suffering  Saviour  had  ; 
A  heart  more  disengaged 

From  earth  and  earthly  things, 
Which  through  life's  varied  trials 

To  Jesus  simply  clings. 

Oh  !  I  shall  live  near  Jesus, 

And  never  go  astray. 
And  every  sin-defiling  stain 

Shall  soon  be  washed  away  ; 
And  1  '11  bear  my  Master's  image 

When  I  see  Him  face  to  face  ; 
Then  earth  shall  lose  the  power 

Its  brightness  to  deface. 


WHO  IS  MY  BROTHER  9 

ly/I  UST  I  my  brother  keep, 

And  share  his  pains  and  toils, 
And  weep  with  those  that  weep. 

And  smile  with  those  that  smile  ; 
And  act  to  each  a  brother's  part. 
And  feel  his  sorrows  in  my  heart? 

Must  I  his  burden  bear 
As  though  it  were  my  own? 

And  do  as  I  would  care 
Should  to  myself  be  done  ; 

And  faithful  to  his  interests  prove, 

And  as  myself  my  neighbor  love  ? 


54  pilgrim  ot  Bartb 

Must  I  reprove  his  sin, 
Must  I  partake  his  grief, 

And  kindly  enter  in 
And  minister  reUef — 

The  naked  clothe,  the  hungry  feed, 

And  love  him,  not  in  word,  but  deed? 

Then,  Jesus,  at  Thy  feet 

A  student  let  me  be. 
And  learn,  as  it  is  meet, 

My  duty,  Lord,  of  Thee  ; 
For  Thou  did'st  come  on  mercy's  plan, 
And  all  Thy  life  was  love  to  man. 

Oh  !  make  me  as  Thou  art. 
Thy  Spirit,  Lord,  bestow — 

The  kind  and  gentle  heart. 
That  feels  another's  woe  ; 

That  thus  I  may  be  like  my  Head, 

And  in  my  Saviour's  footsteps  tread. 


PILGRIM  OF  EARTH. 

piLGRIM  of  earth,  who  art  journeying  to  heaven  ! 
^     Heir  of  Eternal  Life  !  child  of  the  day  ! 
Cared  for,  watched  over,  beloved,  and  forgiven — 
Art  thou  discouraged  because  of  the  way  ? 

Cared  for,  watched  over,  though  often  thou  seemest 
Justly  forsaken,  nor  counted  a  child  ; 

Loved  and  forgiven,  though  rightly  thou  deemest 
Thyself  all  unlovely,  impure,  and  defiled. 

Weary  and  thirsty — no  water-brook  near  thee. 
Press  on,  nor  faint  at  the  length  of  the  way ; 


pllflrim  ot  Bartb  55 

The  God  of  thy  life  will  assuredly  hear  thee — 
He  will  provide  thee  strength  for  the  day. 


Break  through  the  brambles  and  briers  that  obstruct  thee, 
Dread  not  the  gloom  and  the  blackness  of  night ; 

Lean  on  the  Hand  that  will  safely  conduct  thee — 
Trust  to  His  eye  to  whom  darkness  is  light. 


Be  trustful,  be  steadfast,  whatever  betide  thee, 
Only  one  thing  do  thou  ask  of  the  Lord — 

Grace  to  go  forward  wherever  He  guide  thee, 
Simply  believing  the  truth  of  His  word. 


Still  on  thy  spirit  deep  anguish  is  pressing. 
Not  for  the  yoke  that  His  wisdom  bestows  : 

A  heavier  burden  thy  soul  is  distressing, 
A  heart  that  is  slow  in  His  love  to  repose. 


Earthliness,  coldness,  unthankful  behavior — 
Ah  !  thou  mayest  sorrow,  but  do  not  despair  ; 

Even  this  grief  thou  mayest  bring  to  thy  Saviour, 
Cast  upon  Him  e*en  this  burden  and  care  I 


Bring  all  thy  hardness — His  power  can  subdue  it ; 

How  full  is  the  promise  !    The  blessing  how  free  I 
"  Whatsoever  ye  ask  in  My  name,  I  will  do  it : 

Abide  in  My  love,  and  be  joyful  in  Me." 


OUTWARD  BOUND. 

f  SIT  and  watch  the  ships  go  out 

Across  the  widening  sea  ; 
How  one  by  one,  in  shimmering  sun, 

They  sail  away  from  me  I 
I  know  not  to  what  lands  they  sail, 

Nor  what  the  freights  they  bear  ; 
I  only  know  they  outward  go. 

While  all  the  winds  are  fair. 

Beyond  the  low  horizon  line, 

Where  my  short  sight  must  fail, 
Some  other  eyes  a  watch  will  keep, 

Where'er  the  ships  may  sail ; 
By  night,  by  day,  or  near  or  far. 

O'er  narrow  seas  or  wide. 
These  follow  still,  at  love's  sweet  will, 

Whatever  may  betide. 

So  round  the  world  the  ships  will  sail. 

To  dreary  lands  or  fair  ; 
So  with  them  go,  for  weal  or  woe, 

Some  dear  ones  everywhere  ; 
How  will  these  speed  each  lagging  keel 

When  Homeward  it  is  laid ; 
Or  watch  will  keep,  o'er  surges  deep, 

If  there  a  grave  be  made. 

O  human  love,  so  tried,  so  true, 

That  knows  no  mete,  nor  bound, 
But  follows  with  unwearied  watch 

Our  daily  changing  round  ! 
O  Love  divine,  O  Love  supreme, 

What  matters  where  I  sail, 
So  I  but  know,  where'er  I  go, 

Thy  watch  will  never  fail ! 

56 


'WHAT  IS   THIS  THAT  HE  SAITH :  A   LITTLE 
WHILE  9'* 

John  16  :  18. 

r\  H  I  for  the  peace  which  floweth  as  a  river, 
^^     Making  Life's  desert-places  bloom  and  smile  ; 
Oh  !  for  a  faith  to  grasp  Heaven's  bright ' '  for  ever," 
Amid  the  shadows  of  Earth's  *'  little  while." 

**  A  little  while"  for  patient  vigil-keeping. 
To  face  the  storm,  to  wrestle  with  the  strong  ; 

"  A  little  while"  to  sow  the  seed  with  weeping, 
Then  bind  the  sheaves  and  sing  the  harvest-song. 

' '  A  little  while  "  to  wear  the  robe  of  sadness. 
To  toil  with  weary  step  through  erring  ways  ; 

Then  to  pour  forth  the  fragrant  oil  of  gladness. 
And  clasp  the  girdle  of  the  robe  of  praise. 

"  A  little  while  "  'mid  shadow  and  illusion. 

To  strive  by  faith  Love's  mysteries  to  spell ; 
Then  read  each  dark  enigma's  clear  solution, 
Then  hail  Light's  verdict—"  He  doth  all  things  well." 

"  A  little  while"  the  earthen  pitcher  taking 
To  wayside  brooks  from  far-off  fountains  fed  ; 

Then  the  parched  lip  its  thirst  forever  slaking 
Beside  the  fulness  of  the  Fountain  Head. 

"  A  little  while  "  to  keep  the  oil  from  failing  ; 

*'  A  little  while"  Faith's  flickering  lamp  to  trim, 
And  then,  the  Bridegroom's  coming  footstep  hailing. 

To  haste  to  meet  Him  with  the  bridal  hymn. 

And  He  who  is  at  once  both  Gift  and  Giver, 
The  future  Glory,  and  the  present  smile, 

With  the  bright  promise  of  the  glad  '*  for  ever," 
Will  light  the  shadows  of  the  "  little  while." 

57 


IN  HEAVEN. 

'  There  angels  do  always  behold  the  face  of  my  Father.' 

C ILENCE  filled  the  courts  of  heaven, 
^    Hushed  were  seraphs'  harp  and  tone. 
When  a  little  new-born  seraph 

Knelt  before  the  Eternal  Throne  ; 
While  its  soft,  white  hands  were  lifted, 

Clasped  as  if  in  earnest  prayer. 
And  its  voice,  in  dove-like  murmurs, 

Rose  like  music  on  the  ear. 
Light  from  the  full  fount  of  Glory 

On  his  robes  of  whiteness  glistened, 
And  the  bright- winged  seraphs  near  Him 

Bowed  their  radiant  heads  and  listened. 

"  Lord,  from  Thy  Throne  of  Glory  here, 

My  heart  turns  fondly  to  another  ; 
O  Lord  !  our  God,  the  Comforter, 

Comfort,  comfort,  my  sweet  Mother  ! 
Many  sorrows  hast  Thou  sent  her, 

Meekly  has  she  drained  the  cup  ; 
And  the  jewels  Thou  hast  lent  her, 

Unrepining  yielded  up : 

Comfort,  comfort  my  sweet  Mother! 

"  Earth  is  growing  lonely  round  her  ; 

Friend  and  lover  hast  Thou  taken  ; 
Let  her  not,  though  woes  surround  her, 

Feel  herself  by  Thee  forsaken. 
Let  her  think,  when  faint  and  weary. 

We  are  waiting  for  her  here : 
Let  each  loss  that  makes  earth  dreary, 

Make  the  hope  of  heaven  more  dear  : 
Comfort,  comfort  my  sweet  Mother  ! 
58 


Hn  t>cnvcn  59 

"Thou  who  once,  in  nature  human 

Dwelt  on  earth  a  little  child, 
Pillowed  on  the  breast  of  Woman, 

Blessed  Mary !  undefiled. 
Thou  who,  from  the  cross  of  suffering, 

Marked  Thy  Mother's  tearful  face, 
And  bequeathed  her  to  Thy  loved  one, 

Bidding  him  to  fill  Thy  place  : 

Comfort,  comfort  my  sweet  Mother  ! 

**  Thou  who  once,  from  heaven  descending, 

Tears  and  woes  and  conflicts  won  : 
Thou  who,  nature's  laws  suspending, 

Gav'st  the  widow  back  her  son  : 
Thou  who  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus 

Wept  with  those  who  wept  their  dead  : 
Thou  I  who  once  in  mortal  anguish 

Bowed  Thine  own  anointed  head, 

Comfort,  comfort 7W2/  sweet  Mother!'' 

The  dove-like  murmurs  died  away 

Upon  the  radiant  air, 
But  still  the  little  suppliant  knelt 

With  hands  still  clasped  in  prayer  ; 
Still  were  those  mildly-pleading  eyes 

Turned  to  the  sapphire  throne, 
Till  golden  harp  and  angel  voice 

Rang  forth  in  mingled  tone  ; 
And  as  the  swelling  numbers  flowed, 

By  angel  voices  given, 
Rich,  sweet,  and  clear,  the  anthem  rolled 

Through  all  the  courts  of  heaven  : 
**  He  is  the  widow's  God,"  it  said. 

Who  spared  not  *'  His  own  Son" ; 
The  infant  cherub  bowed  his  head — 

"  Thy  will,  O  Lord!  he  done.'' 


"Jr  IS  I;   BE  NOT  AFRAID:' 

Matt.  14 :  37. 

'pOSSED  with  rough  winds,  and  faint  with  fear, 

Above  the  tempest,  soft  and  clear. 
What  still  small  accents  greet  mine  ear? 
'*  'T  is  I;  be  not  afraid. 

'"T  is  I,  who  led  thy  steps  aright ; 
'T  is  I,  who  gave  thy  blind  eyes  sight ; 
'T  is  I,  thy  Lord,  thy  Life,  thy  Light. 
'T  is  I;  be  not  afraid. 

*'  These  raging  winds,  this  surging  sea, 
Bear  not  a  breath  of  wrath  to  thee  ; 
That  storm  has  all  been  spent  on  me, 
'T  is  I;  be  not  afraid. 

"  This  bitter  cup  fear  not  to  drink  ; 
I  know  it  well — oh  !  do  not  shrink  ; 
I  tasted  it  o'er  Kedron's  brink. 
'T  is  I ;  be  not  afraid. 

"  Mine  eyes  are  watching  by  thy  bed, 
Mine  arms  are  underneath  thy  head, 
My  blessing  is  around  thee  shed. 
'T  is  I;  be  not  afraid," 

When  on  the  other  side  thy  feet 
Shall  rest  'mid  thousand  welcomes  sweet, 
One  well-known  voice  thy  heart  shall  greet : 
*"Tis  I;  be  not  afraid." 

From  out  the  dazzling  majesty 
Gently  He  '11  lay  His  hand  on  thee, 
Whispering  :  *'  Beloved,  lov'st  thou  Me? 
'T  was  not  in  vain  I  died  for  thee, 
'TisI;  be  not  afraid." 

6o 


NATURE  AND  FAITH. 

2  Cor.  4 :  17, 18. 

■\^E  wept — 't  was  Nature  wept,  but  Faith 
'  ^      Can  pierce  beyond  the  gloom  of  death, 
And  in  yon  world,  so  fair  and  bright, 
Behold  thee  in  refulgent  light  I 
We  miss  thee  here,  yet  Faith  would  rather 
Know  thou  art  with  thy  heavenly  Father. 

Nature  sees  the  body  dead — 

Faith  beholds  the  spirit  fled  ; 

Nature  stops  at  Jordan's  tide — 

Faith  beholds  the  other  side  ; 

That  but  hears  farewell  and  sighs, 

ThiSf  thy  welcome  in  the  skies j 

Nature  mourns  a  cruel  blow — 
Faith  assures  it  is  not  so  ; 
Nature  never  sees  thee  more — 
Faith  but  sees  thee  gone  before  ; 
Nature  tells  a  dismal  story — 
Faith  has  visions  full  of  glory  ; 
Nature  views  the  change  with  sadness — 
Faith  contemplates  it  with  gladness  ; 
Nature  murmurs — Faith  gives  meekness, 
"Strength  is  perfected  in  weakness  "; 
Nature  writhes,  and  hates  the  rod — 
Faith  looks  up  and  blesses  God  ; 
Sense  looks  downward — Faith  above  ; 
That  sees  harshness — this  sees  love. 
Oh  !  let  Faith  victorious  be^ 
Let  it  reign  triumphantly  ! 

But  thou  art  gone  !  not  lost,  but  flown  I 
Shall  I  then  ask  thee  back,  my  own, 
6i 


62  Hb^  Xamb6 

Back — and  leave  thy  spirit's  brightness? 
Back — and  leave  thy  robes  of  whiteness? 
Back — and  leave  thine  angel  mould  ? 
Back — and  leave  those  streets  of  gold  ? 
Back — and  leave  the  Lamb  who  feeds  thee  I 
Back — from  founts  to  which  He  leads  thee  ? 
Back — and  leave  thy  heavenly  Father  ? 
Back—to  earth  and  sin  ?— Nay  ;  rather 
Would  I  live  in  solitude  ! 
I  would  not  ask  thee  if  I  could  ; 
But  patient  wait  the  high  decree, 
That  calls  my  spirit  home  to  thee  ! 

MY  LAMBS. 

T  LOVED  them  so, 

^     That  when  the  Elder  Shepherd  of  the  fold 
Came,  covered  with  the  storm,  and  pale  and  cold 
And  begged  for  one  of  my  sweet  lambs  to  hold, 
I  bade  him  go. 

He  claimed  the  pet — 
A  little  fondling  thing,  that  to  my  breast 
Clung  always,  either  in  quiet  or  unrest — 
I  thought  of  all  my  lambs  I  loved  him  best, 

And  yet — and  yet 

I  laid  him  down 
In  those  white,  shrouded  arms,  with  bitter  tears  ; 
For  some  voice  told  me  that,  in  after-years. 
He  should  know  naught  of  passion,  grief,  or  fears, 

As  I  had  known. 

And  yet  again 
That  Elder  Shepherd  came.     My  heart  grew  faint, 
He  claimed  another  lamb,  with  sadder  plaint. 
Another  !   She  who,  gentle  as  a  saint, 

Ne'er  gave  me  pain. 


as>S  Uamb6  63 

Aghast  1  turned  away  ! 
There  sat  she,  lovely  as  an  angel's  dream, 
Her  golden  locks  with  sunlight  all  agleam. 
Her  holy  eyes  with  heaven  in  their  beam 

I  knelt  to  pray. 

"Is  it  Thy  will? 
My  Father,  say,  must  this  pet  lamb  be  given  ? 
Oh  I  Thou  hast  many  such,  dear  Lord,  in  heaven.'* 
And  a  soft  voice  said  :  "  Nobly  hast  thou  striven  ; 
But — peace,  be  still." 

Oh  !  how  I  wept. 
And  clasped  her  to  my  bosom,  with  a  wild 
And  yearning  love — my  lamb,  my  pleasant  child. 
Her,  too,  I  gave.     The  little  angel  smiled. 

And  slept. 

*'Go  !  go  !  "  I  cried  : 
For  once  again  that  Shepherd  laid  His  hand 
Upon  the  noblest  of  our  household  band. 
Like  a  pale  spectre,  there  He  took  His  stand. 

Close  to  his  side. 

And  yet  how  wondrous  sweet 
The  look  with  which  he  heard  my  passionate  cry, 
*'  Touch  not  my  lamb  ;  for  him,  oh !  let  me  die ! " 
**  A  little  while,"  He  said,  with  smile  and  sigh, 

"  Again  to  meet." 

Hopeless  I  fell ; 
And  when  I  rose,  the  light  had  burned  so  low. 
So  faint,  I  could  not  see  my  darling  go  : 
He  had  not  bidden  me  farewell,  but  oh  ! 

I  felt  farewell 


64  ^12  Xamt)6 

More  deeply,  far, 
Than  if  my  arms  had  compassed  that  slight  frame : 
Though  could  I  but  have  heard  him  call  my  name — 
"  Dear  mother!  " — but  in  heaven  't  will  be  the  same  : 

There  burns  my  star  ! 

He  will  not  take 
Another  lamb,  I  thought,  for  only  one 
Of  the  dear  fold  is  spared,  to  be  my  sun, 
My  guide  ;  my  mourner  when  this  life  is  done  : 

My  heart  would  break. 

Oh!  with  what  thrill 
I  heard  Him  enter  !  but  I  did  not  know 
(For  it  was  dark)  that  He  had  robbed  me  so. 
The  idol  of  my  soul — he  could  not  go — 

O  heart !  be  still ! 

Came  morning.     Can  I  tell 
How  this  poor  frame  its  sorrowful  tenant  kept  ? 
For  waking  tears  were  mine;  I,  sleeping,  wept, 
And  days,  months,  years,  that  w^eary  vigil  kept. 

Alas!  "Farewell." 

How  often  it  is  said  I 
I  sit  and  think,  and  wonder  too,  sometime. 
How  it  will  seem,  when,  in  that  happier  clime, 
It  never  will  ring  out  like  funeral  chime 

Over  the  dead. 

No  tears  !  no  tears  I 
Will  there  a  day  come  that  I  shall  not  weep  ? 
For  I  bedew  my  pillow  in  my  sleep  : 
Yes,  yes;  thank  God  !  no  grief  that  clime  shall  keep. 

No  weary  years. 


(Tbe  Call  65 

Ay  !  it  is  well : 
Well  with  my  lambs,  and  with  their  earthly  guide 
There,  pleasant  rivers  wander  they  beside, 
Or  strike  sweet  harps  upon  its  silver  tide — 

Ay  !  it  is  well. 

Through  the  dreary  day. 
They  often  come  from  glorious  light  to  me  ; 
I  can  not  feel  their  touch,  their  faces  see, 
Yet  my  soul  whispers,  they  do  come  to  me — 

Heaven  is  not  far  away. 


THE  CALL. 

PHE  night  was  dark  ;  behold,  the  shade  was  deeper 
^      In  the  old  garden  of  Gethsemane, 
V'hen  that  calm  voice  awoke  the  weary  sleeper  : 
*'  Could'st  thou  not  watch  one  hour  alone  with  me? ' 


►  thou  !  so  weary  of  thy  self-denials, 

And  so  impatient  of  thy  little  cross, 
J  it  so  hard  to  bear  thy  daily  trials, 

To  count  all  earthly  things  a  gainful  loss  ? 

^hat  if  thou  always  suffer  tribulation. 
And  if  thy  Christian  warfare  never  cease, 
he  gaining  of  the  quiet  habitation 
Shall  gather  thee  to  everlasting  peace. 

lut  here  we  all  must  suffer,  walking  lonely 
The  path  that  Jesus  once  Himself  hath  gone  : 
iT^atch  thou  in  patience;  through  the  dark  hour  only- 
This  one  dark  hour — before  the  eternal  dawn. 


66  XLbc  Call 

The  captive's  oar  may  pause  upon  the  galley, 
The  soldier  sleep  beneath  his  plumed  crest, 

And  Peace  may  fold  her  wings  o'er  hill  and  valley  ; 
But  thou,  O  Christian  !  must  not  take  thy  rest. 

Thou  must  walk  on,  however  man  upbraid  thee, 
With  Him  who  trod  the  wine-press  all  alone  ; 

Thou  wilt  not  find  one  human  hand  to  aid  thee, 
One  human  soul  to  comprehend  thine  own. 

Heed  not  the  images  forever  thronging 
From  out  the  foregone  life  thou  liv'st  no  more, 

Faint-hearted  mariner  !  still  art  thou  longing 
For  the  dim  line  of  the  receding  shore  ? 

Wilt  thou  find  rest  of  soul  in  thy  returning 
To  that  old  path  thou  hast  so  vainly  trod  ? 

Hast  thou  forgotten  all  thy  weary  yearning 
To  walk  among  the  children  of  thy  God  ; 


Faithful  and  steadfast  in  their  consecration, 
Living  by  that  high  faith  to  thee  so  dim. 

Declaring  before  God  their  dedication. 
So  far  from  thee  because  so  near  to  Him  ? 


Canst  thou  forget  thy  Christian  superscription, 
*'  Behold,  we  count  them  happy  which  endure"? 

What  treasure  wouldst  thou  in  the  land  Egyptian 
Eepass  the  stormy  water  to  secure  ? 

And  wilt  thou  yield  thy  sure  and  glorious  promise 
For  the  poor,  fleeting  joys  earth  can  afford  ? 

No  hand  can  take  away  the  treasure  from  us. 
That  rests  within  the  keeping  of  the  Lord. 


XLbc  Call  67 

Poor  wandering  soul !    I  know  that  thou  art  seeking 
Some  easier  way,  as  all  have  sought  before, 

To  silence  the  reproachful  inward  speaking — 
Some  landward  path  unto  an  island  shore. 


The  cross  is  heavy  in  thy  human  measure, 
The  way  too  narrow  for  thine  inward  pride  ; 

Thou  canst  not  lay  thine  intellectual  treasure 
At  the  low  footstool  of  the  Crucified. 


Oh  !  that  my  faithless  soul,  one  great  hour  only, 
Would  comprehend  the  Christian's  perfect  life, 

Despised  with  Jesus,  sorrowful  and  lonely, 
Yet  calmly  looking  upward  in  its  strife  I 

For  poverty  and  self-renunciation, 
The  Father  yielded  back  a  thousand-fold ; 

In  the  calm  stillness  of  regeneration, 
Cometh  a  joy  we  never  knew  of  old. 

In  meek  obedience  to  the' heavenly  Teacher, 
Thy  weary  soul  can  find  its  only  peace  ; 

Seeking  no  aid  from  any  human  creature- 
Looking  to  God  alone  for  his  release. 

And  He  will  come  in  His  own  time  and  power. 
To  set  His  earnest-hearted  children  free  : 

"Watch  only  through  this  dark  and  painful  hour, 
And  the  bright  morning  yet  will  break  for  thee. 


GOD'S  ANVIL, 

pAIN'S  furnace-heat  within  me  quivers, 
^  God's  breath  upon  the  fire  doth  blow, 
And  all  my  heart  in  anguish  shivers, 

And  trembles  at  the  fiery  glow ; 
And  yet  I  whisper,  *'  As  God  will ! " 
And  in  His  hottest  fire  hold  still. 

He  comes,  and  lays  my  heart,  all  heated. 

On  the  bare  anvil,  minded  so 
Into  His  own  fair  shape  to  beat  it, 

With  His  great  hammer,  blow  on  blow  ; 
And  yet  I  whisper,  "  As  God  will ! " 
And  at  His  heaviest  blows  hold  still. 

He  takes  my  softened  heart  and  beats  it ; 

The  sparks  fly  off  at  every  blow  ; 
He  turns  it  o'er  and  o'er,  and  heats  it. 

And  lets  it  cool,  and  makes  it  glow  : 
And  yet  I  whisper,  "  As  God  will !  " 
And  in  His  mighty  hand  hold  still. 

Why  should  I  murmur  ?  for  the  sorrow 
Thus  only  longer-lived  would  be  ; 

Its  end  may  come,  and  will,  to-morrow, 
When  God  has  done  His  work  in  me  : 

So  I  say  trusting,  ' '  As  God  will ! " 

And,  trusting  to  the  end,  hold  still. 

He  kindles,  for  my  profit  purely, 
Affliction's  glowing,  fiery  brand  ; 

And  all  His  heaviest  blows  are  surely 
Inflicted  by  a  Master-hand  ; 

So  I  say,  praying,  "  As  God  will  ! " 

And  hope  in  Him,  and  suffer  still. 

68 


THE  CROSS  AND  CROWN. 

IVyiUST  Jesus  bear  the  cross  alone 

And  all  the  world  go  free? 
No  ;  there  's  a  cross  for  every  one, 
And  there 's  a  cross  for  me. 

How  happy  are  the  saints  above, 
Who  once  went  sorrowing  here  ; 

But  now  they  taste  un mingled  love. 
And  joy  without  a  tear. 

The  consecrated  cross  I  '11  bear, 

Till  death  shall  set  me  free  ; 
And  then  go  home,  my  crown  to  wear  ; 

For  there 's  a  crown  for  me. 

Upon  the  crystal  pavement,  down 

At  Jesus'  pierced  feet, 
Joyful  I  '11  cast  my  golden  crown, 

And  His  dear  name  repeat ; 

And  palms  shall  wave,  and  harps  shall  ring 
Beneath  heaven's  arches  high  ; 

The  Lord  that  lives,  the  ransomed  sing. 
That  lives  no  more  to  die. 


EVEN  ME. 

T  ORD  !  I  hear  of  showers  of  blessing 
Thou  art  scattering,  full  and  free, 
Showers  the  thirsty  soul  refreshing — 
Let  some  droppings  fall  on  me. 

Even  me. 
69 


70  iBvcn  jfllbe 

Pass  me  not,  O  gracious  Father  ! 

Lost  and  sinful  though  I  be  ; 
Thou  mightst  curse  me,  but  the  rather 

Let  Thy  mercy  light  on  me. 

Even  me. 

Pass  me  not,  O  tender  Saviour  ! 

Let  me  love  and  cling  to  Thee  ; 
Fain  I  'm  longing  for  Thy  favor  ; 

When  Thou  callest,  call  for  me, 

Even  me. 


Pass  me  not,  O  mighty  spirit ! 

Thou  canst  make  the  blind  to  see  ; 
Testify  of  Jesus'  merit, 

Speak  the  word  of  peace  to  me. 

Even  me. 

Have  I  long  in  sin  been  sleeping, 
Long  been  slighting,  grieving  Thee  ? 

Has  the  world  my  heart  been  keeping ; 
Oh  !  forgive  and  rescue  me. 

Even  me. 

Love  of  God  !  so  pure  and  changeless  ; 

Love  of  Christ !  so  rich  and  free  ; 
Grace  of  God  !  so  strong  and  boundless, 

Magnify  it  all  in  me. 

Even  me. 

Pass  me  not,  almighty  Spirit ! 

Draw  this  lifeless  heart  to  Thee  ; 
Impute  to  me  the  Saviour's  merits  ; 

Blessing  others,  oh  !  bless  me, 

Even  me. 


0  MY  SAVIOUR,    CRUCIFIED. 

f^  MY  Saviour,  crucified  1 
^^  Near  Thy  cross  may  I  abide  ; 
There  to  gaze,  with  steadfast  eye, 
On  Thy  dying  agony. 

Jesus,  bruised  and  put  to  shame, 
Tells  me  all  the  Father's  name  ; 
God  is  love,  I  surely  know, 
By  my  Saviour's  depths  of  woe ! 

In  His  sinless  soul's  distress 

1  behold  my  guiltiness  ; 

Oh  !  how  vile  my  low  estate, 
Since  my  ransom  was  so  great. 

Dwelling  on  Mount  Calvary, 
Contrite  shall  my  spirit  be  ; 
Rest  and  holiness  shall  find. 
Fashioned  like  my  Saviour's  mind. 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD. 

WE  ask  for  peace,  O  Lord  ! 
Thy  children  ask  Thy  peace, 
Not  what  the  world  calls  rest. 

That  toil  and  care  should  cease  ; 
That  through  bright  sunny  hours, 

Calm  life  should  fleet  away, 
And  tranquil  night  should  fade 

In  smiling  day. 
It  is  not  for  such  peace  that  we  would  pray. 

71 


72  ^be  peace  ot  (5oD 

We  ask  for  peace,  O  Lord  I 

Yet  not  to  stand  secure, 
Girt  round  with  iron  pride, 

Contented  to  endure  ; 
Crushing  the  gentle  strings 

That  human  hearts  should  know  ; 
Untouched  by  others'  joys, 

Or  others'  woe. 
Thou,  O  dear  Lord  !  wilt  never  teach  us  so. 


We  ask  Thy  peace,  O  Lord  ! 

Through  storm  and  fear  and  strife. 
To  light  and  guide  us  o;i 

Through  a  long,  struggling  life  : 
While  no  success  or  gain 

Shall  cheer  the  desperate  fight, 
Or  nerve  what  the  world  calls 

Our  wasted  might  : 
Yet  pressing  through  the  darkness  to  the  lighi 


It  is  Thine  own,  O  Lord  ! 

Who  toil  while  others  sleep ; 
Who  sow,  with  living  care. 

What  other  hands  shall  reap  ; 
They  lean  on  Thee,  entranced 

In  calm  and  perfect  rest ; 
Give  us  that  peace,  O  Lord  ! 

Divine  and  blest, 
Thou  keepest  for  those  hearts  that  love  The 
best. 


PEACE. 

I  IFE'S  mystery— deep,  restless  as  the  ocean— 
^    Hath  surged  and  wailed  for  ages  to  and  fro  ; 
Earth's  generations  watch  its  ceaseless  motion, 

As  in  and  out  its  hollow  moanings  flow. 
Shivering  and  yearning  by  that  unknown  sea, 
Let  my  soul  calm  itself,  O  God  !  in  Thee. 

Life's  sorrows,  with  inexorable  power, 

Sweep  desolation  o'er  this  mortal  plain  ; 
And  human  loves  and  hopes  fly  as  the  chaff 

Borne  by  the  whirlwind  from  the  ripened  grain. 
Oh  !  when  before  that  blast  my  hopes  all  flee. 
Let  my  soul  calm  itself,  O  Christ !  in  Thee. 

Between  the  mysteries  of  death  and  life 
Thou  standest,  loving,  guiding,  not  explaining  : 

We  ask,  and  Thou  art  silent :  yet  we  gaze. 
And  our  charmed  hearts  forget  their  drear  complain- 
ing. 

No  crushing  fate,  no  stony  destiny. 

Thou  ' '  Lamb  that  hath  been  slain  ! "  we  rest  in  Thee. 

The  many  waves  of  thought,  the  mighty  tides. 
The  ground-swell  that  rolls  up  from  other  lands, 

From  far-off  worlds,  from  dim,  eternal  shores  ; 
Whose  echo  dashes  o'er  life's  wave-worn  strands. 

This  vague,  dark  tumult  of  the  inner  sea 

Grows  calm,  grows  bright,  O  risen  Lord  !  in  Thee. 

Thy  pierced  hand  guides  the  mysterious  wheels, 
Thy  thorn-crowned  brow  now  wears  the  crown  of 
power ; 

73 


74  prai^cr  for  Strengtb 

And  when  the  dark  enigma  presseth  sore. 

Thy  patient  voice  saith  :  "  Watch  with  Me  one  hour." 
As  sinks  the  moaning  river  in  the  sea, 
In  silent  peace,  so  sinks  my  soul  in  Thee. 


PRAYER  FOR  STRENGTH. 

CATHER  !  before  Thy  footstool  kneeling, 
^      Once  more  my  heart  goes  up  to  Thee  ; 
For  aid,  for  strength,  to  Thee  appealing, 
Thou  who  alone  canst  succor  me. 

Hear  me  !  for  heart  and  flesh  are  failing — 

My  spirit  yielding  in  the  strife  ; 
And  anguish  wild,  as  unavailing, 

Sweeps  in  a  flood  across  my  life. 

Help  me  to  stem  the  tide  of  sorrow  ; 

Help  me  to  bear  Thy  chastening  rod  ; 
Give  me  endurance  ;  let  me  borrow 

Strength  from  Thy  promise,  O  my  God  I 

Not  mine  the  grief  which  words  may  lighten  ; 

Not  mine  the  tears  of  common  woe  ; 
The  pang  with  which  my  heart-strings  tighten, 

Only  the  All-seeing  One  may  know. 

And  I  am  weak  ;  my  feeble  spirit 
Shrinks  from  life's  tasks  in  w-ild  dismay  ; 

Yet  not  that  Thou  that  task  would  spare  it, 
My  Father,  do  I  dare  to  pray. 

Into  my  soul  Thy  might  infusing, 
Strengthening  my  spirit  by  Thine  own, 


©nwarD  75 

Help  me — all  other  aid  refusing — 
To  cling  to  Thee,  and  Thee  alone. 

And  oh  !  in  my  exceeding  weakness, 
Make  Thy  strength  perfect :  Thou  art  strong  I 

Aid  me  to  do  Thy  will  with  meekness, 
Thou  to  whom  all  my  powers  belong. 

Saviour !  our  human  form  once  wearing, 

Help,  by  the  memory  of  that  day, 
When,  painfully  Thy  dark  cross  bearing, 

E  'en  for  a  time  Thy  strength  gave  way. 

Beneath  a  lighter  burden  sinking, 

Jesus,  I  cast  myself  on  Thee  ; 
Forgive,  forgive  this  useless  shrinking 

From  trials  that  I  know  must  be. 

Oh  I  let  me  feel  that  Thou  art  near  me, 

Close  to  Thy  side  I  shall  not  fear  ; 
Hear  me,  O  Strength  of  Israel !  hear  me 

Sustain  and  aid  I  in  mercy  hear  I 


ONWAED. 

^TRAVELLER,  faint  not  on  the  road  ; 

Droop  not  in  the  parching  sun  ; 
Onward,  onward  with  thy  load, 

Till  the  night  be  won. 
Swerve  not,  though  thy  bleeding  feet 

Fain  the  narrow  path  would  leave  ; 
From  the  burden  and  the  heat 

Thou  shalt  rest  at  eve. 


76  ©nwarD 

'Midst  a  world  that  round  thee  fades, 

Brightening  stars  and  twilight  life  ; 
When  a  sacred  calm  pervades 

All  that  now  is  strife  ; 
Rich  the  joy  to  be  revealed 

In  that  hour  from  labor  free, 
Bright  the  splendors  that  shall  yield 

Happiness  to  thee. 

Master  of  a  holy  charm 

Yet  be  patient  on  thy  way  ; 
Use  the  spell  and  check  the  harm 

That  would  lead  astray. 
From  the  petty  cares  that  teem, 

Turn  thee  with  prophetic  eye, 
To  the  glory  of  that  dream 

Which  shall  never  die. 


By  the  mystery  of  thy  trust ; 

By  the  grandeur  of  that  hour 
When  mortality  and  dust 

Clothed  eternal  power ; 
By  the  purple  robe  of  shame. 

The  mockery,  and  the  insulting  rod, 
By  the  anguish  that  o'ercame 

The  incarnate  God : 


Faint  not !  fail  not  I  be  thou  strong. 

Cast  away  distrust  and  fear  ; 
Though  the  weary  day  seems  long. 

Yet  the  night  is  near. 
Friends  and  kindred  wait,  beyond — 

They  who  passed  the  trial  pure  : 
Traveller,  by  that  holy  bond, 

Shrink  not  to  endure. 


QRIEF  WAS  SENT  THEE  FOR   THY  GOOD, 

C  OME  there  are  who  seem  exempted 

From  the  doom  incurred  by  all ; 
Are  they  not  more  sorely  tempted  ? 

Are  they  not  the  first  to  fall? 
As  a  mother's  firm  denial 

Checks  her  infant's  wayward  mood, 
Wisdom  lurks  in  every  trial — 

Grief  was  sent  thee  for  thy  good. 

In  the  scenes  of  former  pleasure, 

Present  anguish  hast  thou  felt ; 
O'er  thy  fond  heart's  dearest  treasure, 

As  a  mourner  hast  thou  knelt ; 
In  thy  hour  of  deep  affliction, 

Let  no  impious  thoughts  intrude  ; 
Meekly  bow,  with  this  conviction — 

Grief  was  sent  thee  for  thy  good. 


SCENES  "  ON  JORDAN'S  STRAND," 

THERE  came  a  little  child,  with  sunny  hair, 

All  fearless  to  the  brink  of  Death's  dark  river, 
.nd  with  a  sweet  confiding  in  the  care 
Of  Him  who  is  of  life  the  Joy  and  Giver  ; 
Lnd  as  upon  the  waves  she  left  our  sight, 
V^e  heard  her  say  :  "  My  Saviour  makes  them  bright.' 

Text  came  a  youth,  with  bearing  most  serene. 
Nor  turned  a  single  backward  look  of  sadness  ; 
5ut,  as  he  left  each  gay  and  flowery  scene, 
77 


78  Scenes  **Qn  JorDan'e  StranO'' 

Smiling  declared  :  * '  My  soul  is  thrilled  with  gladness  I 
What  earth  deems  bright,  forever  1  resign, 
Joyful  but  this  to  know,  that  Christ  is  mine." 

An  aged  mourner,  trembling,  tottered  by, 
And  paused  a  moment  by  the  swelling  river. 

Then  glided  on  beneath  the  shadowy  sky 
Singing  :  *'  Christ  Jesus  is  my  strength  forever  ; 

Upon  His  arm  my  feeble  soul  I  lean. 

My  glance  meets  His,  without  a  cloud  between." 

And  scarce  her  last  triumphant  note  had  died, 
Ere  hastened  on  a  man  of  wealth  and  learning. 

Who  cast  at  once  his  bright  renown  aside. 
These  only  words  to  his  friends  returning  : 

"  Christ  for  my  Wisdom  thankfully  I  own, 

And  as  '  a  little  child '  I  seek  His  throne." 

Then  saw  I  this :  that,  whether  guileless  child, 
Or  youth,  or  age,  or  genius,  won  salvation. 

Each  self -renouncing  came  ;  on  each  God  smiled  ; 
Each  found  the  love  of  Christ  rich  compensation 

For  loss  of  friends,  earth's  pleasures  and  renown  ; 

Each  entered  heaven,  and  "  by  His  side  sat  down." 


THERE  IS  LIGHT  BEYOND. 

D  EYOND  the  stars  that  shine  in  golden  glory, 

Beyond  the  calm  sweet  moon, 
Up  the  bright  ladder  saints  have  trod  before  thee. 

Soul !  thou  shalt  venture  soon. 
Secure  with  Him  who  sees  thy  heart-sick  yearning, 

Safe  in  His  arms  of  love. 
Thou  shalt  exchange  the  midnight  for  the  morning 

And  thy  fair  home  above, 


Zbcxc  Us  XiQbt  JBegonD  79 

Oh  !  it  is  sweet  to  watch  the  world's  night  wearing, 

The  Sabbath  morn  come  on, 
And  sweet  it  were  the  vineyard  labor  sharing — 

Sweeter  the  labor  done. 
All  finished  I  all  the  conflict  and  the  sorrow. 

Earth's  dream  of  anguish  o'er  ; 
Deathless  there  dawns  for  thee  a  nightless  morrow 

On  Eden's  blissful  shore. 

Patience  !  then,  patience  !  soon  the  pang  of  dying 

Shall  all  forgotten  be, 
And  thou,  through  rolling  spheres  rejoicing,  flying 

Beyond  the  waveless  sea, 
Shalt  know  hereafter  where  thy  Lord  doth  lead  thee, 

His  darkest  dealings  trace, 
And  by  those  fountains  where  His  love  will  feed  thee, 

Behold  Him  face  to  face. 

Then   bow   thine    head,    and    God    shall     give     thee 
meekness. 

Bravely  to  do  His  will ; 
So  shall  arise  His  glory  in  thy  weakness — 

O  struggling  soul !  be  still. 
Dark  clouds  are  His  pavilion  shining  o'er  thee, 

Thine  heart  must  recognize 
The  veiled  Shechinah  moving  on  before  thee, 

Too  bright  to  meet  thine  eyes. 

Behold  the  wheel  that  straightly  moves,  and  fleetly 

Performs  the  Sovereign  Word  ; 
Thou  know'st  His  suffering  love  I  then  suffering 
meekly. 

Follow  thy  loving  Lord  ! 
Watch  on  the  tower,  and  listen  by  the  gateway. 

Nor  weep  to  wait  alone  ; 
Take  thou  thy  spices,  and  some  angel  straightway 

Shall  roll  away  the  stone. 


So  *'  ^bg  XlClill  Mc  2)one !  *' 

Then  shalt  thou  tell  thy  living  Lord  hath  risen, 

And  risen  but  to  save  ; 
Tell  of  the  might  that  breaks  the  Captive's  prison, 

And  life  beyond  the  grave  ! 
Tell  how  He  met  thee,  all  His  radiance  shrouded  ; 

How  in  thy  sorrow  came 
His  pitying  voice  breathing,  when  faith  was  clouded. 

Thine  own  familiar  name. 

So  at  the  grave's  dark  portal  thou  may'st  linger, 

And  hymn  some  happy  strain  ; 
The  passing  world  may  mock  the  feeble  singer — 

Heed  not,  but  sing  again. 
Thus  wait,  thus  watch,  till  He  the  last  link  sever, 

And  changeless  rest  be  won  ; 
Then  in  His  glory  thou  shalt  bask  forever, 

Fear  not  the  clouds— press  on  ! 


''THY  WILL  BE  DONE/" 

UOUR  little  words — no  more — 

Easy  to  say  ; 
But  thoughts  that  went  before, 
Can  words  convey  ? 

The  struggle,  only  known 

To  one  proud  soul. 
And  Him  whose  eye  alone 

Has  marked  the  whole. 

Before  that  stubborn  will 

At  length  was  broke, 
And  a  low  "  Peace,  be  still," 

One  soft  Voice  spoke  ; 


**Zb^  TKHtll  J3e  1S>o\\cV'  8i 

The  pang,  when  that  sad  heart 

Its  dreams  resigned, 
And  strength  was  found,  to  part 

Those  bonds  long  twined, 


To  yield  that  treasure  up, 
So  fondly  clasped. 

To  drain  that  bitter  cup. 
So  sadly  grasped ! 

But  all  is  calm  at  last, 
"Thy  will  be  done!" 

Enough,  the  storm  is  past 
The  field  is  won. 


Now  for  the  peaceful  breast, 

The  quiet  sleep  ; 
For  soul  and  spirit  rest, 

Tranquil  and  deep. 

Rest,  whose  full  bliss  and  power 

They  only  know 
Who  knew  the  bitter  hour 

Of  restless  woe. 

The  rebel  will  subdued— 

The  fond  heart  free — 
"  Thy  will  be  done  !  "—all  good 

That  comes  froni  Thee. 


All  weary  thought  and  care, 

Lord,  we  resign  ; 
Ours  is  to  do,  to  bear. 

To  choose  is  Thine. 


8a  Jlbc^  SbM  3Qc  ISsinc  I 

Four  little  words — no  more — 

Easy  to  say ; 
But  what  was  felt  before, 

Can  words  convey  ? 


THEY  SHALL  BE  MINE! 

*  4  'T'HEY  shall  be  mine  !  "     Oh  !   lay  them  down  to 
^         slumber, 

Calm  in  the  strong  assurance  that  He  gives  ; 
He  calls  them  by  their  names,  He  knows  their  number. 

And  they  shall  live  as  surely  as  He  lives. 

"  They  shall  be  mine  ! "  upraised  from  earthly  pillows, 
Gathered  from  desert  sand,  from  mountains  cold — 

Called  from  the  graves  beneath  old  ocean's  billows, 
Called  from  each  distant  land,  each  scattered  fold. 

Well  might  the  soul,  that  wondrous  spark  of  being, 
Lit  by  His  breath  who  claims  it  for  His  own. 

Shine  in  the  circle  which  His  love  foreseeing, 
Destined  to  glitter  brightest  by  His  throne. 

But  shall  the  dust  from  earthly  dust  first  taken, 
And  now  long  mingled  with  its  native  earth. 

To  life,  to  beauty,  once  again  awaken. 
Thrill  with  the  rapture  of  a  second  birth  ? 

"They   shall  be  mine!"   they,  as  on  earth  we  knew 
them — 

The  lips  we  kissed,  the  hands  we  loved  to  press — 
Only  a  fuller  life  be  circling  through  them, 

Unfading  youth,  unchanging  holiness. 


Xeavc  Itsc  1^01  flow  83 

''  They  shall  be  mine  ! "  children  of  sin  and  sorrow 
Giv'st  Thou,  O  Lord  !  heaven's  almost  verge  to  them  ? 

Not  from  each  rifled  grave  Thy  crown  shall  borrow 
An  added  light— a  prized  and  costly  gem. 


' '  They  shall  be  mine ! "    Thought    fails,   and   feeling 
falters, 

Striving  to  sound  and  fathom  love  divine  ; 
All  that  we  know — no  time  Thy  promise  alters — 

All  that  we  trust,  our  loved  ones  shall  be  Thine. 


LEAVE  ME  NOT  NOW. 

I  EAVE  me  not  now,  while  still  the  shade  is  creeping 

O'er  the  sad  heart  that  longs  to  rest  in  Thee  ; 
Hear  my  complaint,  and  while  my  soul  is  weeping, 
Breathe  Thou  the  holy  dew  of  sympathy. 

Leave  me  not  now.  Thou  Saviour  of  compassion, 
While  yet  the  busy  tempter  lurketh  near  ; 

Lord,  by  Thine  anguish  and  Thy  wondrous  passion 
Do  I  entreat  Thee  now  to  linger  here. 

Jesus,  Thou  soul  of  love.  Thou  heart  of  feeling, 

Let  me  repose  the  weary  night  away 
Safe  on  Thy  bosom,  all  my  woes  revealing. 

Secure  from  danger,  till  the  dawn  of  day. 

Then  leave  me  not,  O  Comforter,  and  Father, 
Parent  of  love  !  I  live  but  in  Thy  sight : 

Good  Shepherd,  to  Thy  fold  the  wand'rer  gather, 
There  to  adore  Thee,  morning,  noon,  and  night. 


FAITH'S  REPOSE. 

CATHER,  beneath  Thy  sheltering  wing 
^      In  sweet  security  we  rest, 
And  fear  no  evil  earth  can  bring, 
In  hfe,  in  death,  supremely  blest. 

For  life  is  good,  whose  tidal  flow 
The  motions  of  Thy  will  obeys  ; 

And  death  is  good,  that  makes  us  know 
The  Love  Divine  that  all  things  sways. 

And  good  it  is  to  bear  the  cross 
And  so  Thy  perfect  peace  to  win ; 

And  naught  is  ill,  nor  brings  us  loss. 
Nor  works  us  harm,  save  only  sin. 

Redeemed  from  this,  we  ask  no  more. 
But  trust  the  love  that  saves  to  guide — 

The  grace  that  yields  so  rich  a  store, 
Will  grant  us  all  we  need  beside. 


THE  DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS.' 

I  SEE  them  far  away, 

*       In  their  calm  beauty  on  the  evening  skies, 
Across  the  golden  west  their  summits  rise. 
Bright  with  the  radiance  of  departing  day. 

»"  And  then,  said  they,  we  will,  if  the  day  be  clear,  show  you  the 

Delectable  Mountains So  he  looked,  and  behold,  at  a  great 

distance  he  saw  a  most  pleasant  mountainous  country,  ....  very 
delectable  to  behold,  ....  and  it  is  as  common,  said  they,  as  this 
hill  is,  to  and  for  all  the  pilgrims.  And  when  thou  comest  there ^ 
from  thence  thou  may  est  see  to  the  gates  of  the  Celestial  City."— 
Bunyan. 

84 


XTbe  Delectable  /nbountains  8$ 

And  often «  ere  the  sunset  light  was  gone, 
Gazing  and  Jonging,  I  have  hastened  on, 
As  with  new  strength,  all  weariness  and  pain 
Forgotten  in  the  hope  those  blissful  heights  to  gain. 

Heaven  lies  not  far  beyond, 
But  these  are  hills  of  earth,  our  changeful  air 
Circles  around  them,  and  the  dwellers  there 

Still  own  mortality's  mysterious  bond. 
The  ceaseless  contact,  the  continued  strife. 
Of  sin  and  grace,  which  can  but  close  with  life. 
Is  not  yet  ended,  and  the  Jordan's  roar 
Still  sounds  between  their  path  and  the  Celestial  shore. 

But  there,  the  pilgrims  say, 
On  these  calm  heights,  the  tumult  and  the  noise 
Of  all  our  busy  cares  and  restless  joys 

Has  almost  in  the  distance  died  away ; 
All  the  past  journey  "  a  right  way  "  appears, 
Thoughts  of  the  future  wake  no  faithless  fears. 
And  through  the  clouds,  to  their  rejoicing  eyes, 
The  city's  golden  streets  and  pearly  gates  arise. 

Courage,  poor  fainting  heart ! 
These  happy  ones  in  the  far  distance  seen, 
Were  sinful  wanderers  once,  as  thou  hast  been. 

Weary  and  sorrowful,  as  now  thou  art. 
Linger  no  longer  on  the  lonely  plain. 
Press  boldly  onward,  and  thou  too  shalt  gain 
Their  vantage-ground,  and  then  with  vigor  new 
All  thy  remaining  race  and  pilgrimage  pursue. 

Ah  I  far  too  faint,  too  poor 
Are  all  our  views  and  aims — we  only  stand 
Within  the  borders  of  the  promised  land. 

Its  precious  things  we  seek  not  to  secure  ; 


86  ^be  Bncbor  witbin  tbe  Veil 

And  thus  our  hands  hang  down,  and  oft  unstrung 
Our  harps  are  left  the  willow-trees  among  ; 
Lord,  lead  us  forward,  upward,  till  we  know 
How  much  of  heavenly  bliss  may  be  enjoyed  below. 


TJB-E  ANCHOR  WITHIN  THE  VEIL. 

A  MID  the  shadows  and  the  fears 
^^    That  overcloud  this  home  of  tears, 
Amid  my  poverty  and  sin, 
The  tempest  and  the  war  within, 
I  cast  my  soul  on  Thee, 
Mighty  to  save  e'en  me, 
Jesus,  Thou  Son  of  God  I 

Drifting  across  a  sunless  sea, 
Cold,  heavy  mist,  encurtaining  me  ; 
Toiling  along  life's  broken  road, 
With  snares  around,  and  foes  abroad, 
I  cast  my  soul  on  Thee, 
Mighty  to  save  e'en  me, 
Jesus,  Thou  Son  of  God  ! 

Mine  is  a  day  of  fear  and  strife, 

A  needy  soul,  a  needy  life, 

A  needy  world,  a  needy  age  j 

Yet  in  my  perilous  pilgrimage, 
I  cast  my  soul  on  Thee, 
Mighty  to  save  e'en  me, 
Jesus,  Thou  Son  of  God ! 

To  Thee  I  come — ah  !  only  Thou 

Canst  wipe  the  sweat  from  off  this  brow ; 

Thou,  only  Thou,  canst  make  me  whole, 


(3oD's  llXflaiss  87 

And  soothe  the  fever  of  my  soul ; 
I  cast  my  soul  on  Thee, 
Mighty  to  save  e'en  me, 
Jesus,  Thou  Son  of  God  I 

On  Thee  I  rest— Thy  love  and  grace 
Are  my  sole  rock  and  resting-place  : 
In  Thee  my  thirst  and  hunger  sore, 
Lord,  let  me  quench  for  evermore. 

I  cast  my  soul  on  Thee, 

Mighty  to  save  e'en  me, 

Jesus,  Thou  Son  of  God  I 

'Tls  earth,  not  heaven  ;  'tis  night,  not  noon  ; 
The  sorrowless  is  coming  soon  ; 
But  till  the  morn  of  love  appears, 
Which  ends  the  travail  and  the  tears, 

I  cast  my  soul  on  Thee, 

Mighty  to  save  e'en  me, 

Jesus,  Thou  Son  of  God  I 


GOD'S   WAYS. 

O  OW  few  who  from  their  youthful  day 

Look  on  to  what  their  life  may  be, 
Painting  the  visions  of  the  way 

In  colors  soft,  and  bright,  and  free  ; 
How  few  who  to  such  paths  have  brought 
The  hopes  and  dreams  of  early  thought  I 
For  God,  through  ways  they  have  not  known, 
Will  lead  His  own. 

The  eager  hearts,  the  souls  of  fire 
Who  pant  to  toil  for  God  and  man, 

And  view  with  eyes  of  keen  desire 
The  upland  way  of  toil  and  pain  ; 


88  (5oD'5 1imai20 

Almost  with  scorn  they  think  of  rest, 
Of  holy  calm,  of  tranquil  breast ; 
But  God,  through  ways  they  have  not  known, 
Will  lead  His  own. 

A  lowlier  task  on  them  is  laid, 

With  love  to  make  the  labor  light ; 

And  then  their  beauty  they  must  shed. 
On  quiet  homes  and  lost  to  sight. 

Changed  are  their  visions  high  and  fair, 

Yet  calm  and  still  they  labor  there  ; 

For  God  through  ways  they  have  not  known, 
Will  lead  His  own. 

The  gentle  heart  that  thinks  with  pain 
It  scarce  can  lowliest  tasks  fulfil, 

And  if  it  dared  its  life  to  scan 
Would  ask  but  pathway  low  and  still ; 

Often  such  lowly  heart  is  brought 

To  act  with  power  beyond  its  thought ; 

For  God,  through  ways  they  have  not  known, 
Will  lead  His  own. 

And  they  the  bright,  who  long  to  prove 
In  joyous  path,  in  cloudless  lot, 

How  fresh  from  earth  their  grateful  love 
Can  spring  without  a  stain  or  spot ; 

Often  such  youthful  heart  is  given 

The  path  of  grief  to  walk  to  heaven  ; 

For  God,  through  ways  they  have  not  known, 
Will  lead  His  own. 

What  matter  what  the  path  shall  be  ? 

The  end  is  clear  and  bright  to  view  : 
He  knows  that  we  a  strength  shall  see 

Whatever  the  day  shall  bring  to  do : 


2)(0tracttong  tn  prai^er 

We  see  the  end,  the  house  of  God, 
But  not  the  path  to  that  abode  ; 
For  God,  through  ways  they  have  not  known, 
Will  lead  His  own. 


DISTRACTIONS  IN  PRAYER. 

I  CAN  not  pray  ;  yet,  Lord,  Thou  know'st 

The  pain  it  is  to  me. 
To  have  my  vainly  struggling  thoughts 
Thus  torn  away  from  Thee. 

Prayer  was  not  meant  for  luxury 

Of  selfish  pastime  sweet ; 
It  is  the  prostrate  creature's  place 

At  his  Creator's  feet. 

Had  1,  dear  Lord,  no  pleasure  found 

But  in  the  thoughts  of  Thee, 
Prayer  would  have  come  unsought,  and  been 

A  truer  liberty. 

Yet  Thou  art  oft  most  present,  Lord, 

In  weak  distracted  prayer  ; 
A  sinner  out  of  heart  and  self 

Most  often  finds  Thee  there. 

And  prayer  that  humbles,  sets  the  soul 

From  all  illusions  free. 
And  teaches  it  how  utterly, 

Dear  Lord,  it  hangs  on  Thee. 

The  soul  that  on  self-sacrifice 

Is  dutifully  bent, 
Will  bless  the  chastening  hand  that  makes 

Its  prayer  its  punishment. 


90  /IBs  (5ue6t 

Ah,  Jesus  !  why  should  I  complain  ? 

And  why  fear  aught  but  sin  ? 
Distractions  are  but  outward  things ; 

Thy  peace  dwells  far  within  ! 

These  surface  troubles  come  and  go 
Like  rufflings  of  the  sea  ; 

The  deeper  depth  is  out  of  reach 
To  all,  my  God,  but  Thee  ! 


MY  GUEST. 

I  HAVE  a  wonderful  Guest, 

Who  speeds  my  feet,  who  moves  my  hands. 
Who  strengthens,  comforts,  guides,  commands. 
Whose  presence  gives  me  rest. 

He  dwells  within  my  soul ; 
He  swept  away  the  filth  and  gloom, 
He  garnished  fair  the  empty  room, 

And  now  pervades  the  whole. 

For  aye,  by  day  and  night ; 
He  keeps  the  portals — suffers  naught 
Defile  the  temple  He  has  bought, 

And  filled  with  joy  and  light. 

Once  '  t  was  a  cavern  dim  ; 
The  home  of  evil  thoughts,  desires. 
Enkindled  by  infernal  fires. 

Without  one  thought  of  Him. 

Regenerated  by  His  grace, 
Still '  t  is  a  meagre  inn,  at  best. 
Wherein  the  King 's  to  make  His  rest, 

And  show  His  glorious  face. 


domind  91 

Yet,  Saviour,  ne'er  depart 
From  this  poor  earthly  cottage  home, 
Until  the  Father  bid  me  come, 

Whisp'ring  within  my  heart : 

*'  I  shake  these  cottage  walls  ; 
Fear  not !  at  My  command  they  bow  ; 
My  heavenly  mansions  open  now. 

As  this  poor  dwelling  falls." 

Then  my  dear  wondrous  Guest 
Shall  bear  me  on  His  own  right  hand 
Unto  that  fair  and  Promised  Land, 

Where  I  in  Him  shall  rest. 


COMING, 

"  At  even,  or  at  midnight,  or  at  the  cock-crowing,  or  in  the 
morning." 

4  4  IT  may  be  in  the  evening. 

When  the  work  of  the  day  is  done, 
And  you  have  time  to  sit  in  the  twilight 

And  watch  the  sinking  sun. 
While  the  long  bright  day  dies  slowly 

Over  the  sea, 
And  the  hour  grows  quiet  and  holy 

With  thoughts  of  me  ; 
While  you  hear  the  village  children 

Passing  along  the  street. 
Among  those  thronging  footsteps 

May  come  the  sound  of  my  feet. 
Therefore  I  tell  you  :  Watch 

By  the  light  of  the  evening  star, 
When  the  room  is  growing  dusky 

As  the  clouds  afar  ; 


92  Coming 

Let  the  door  be  on  the  latch 

In  your  home, 
For  it  may  be  through  the  gloaming 

I  will  come. 

"  It  may  be  when  the  midnight 

Is  heavy  upon  the  land, 
And  the  black  waves  lying  dumbly 

Along  the  sand ; 
When  the  moonless  night  draws  close, 
And  the  lights  are  out  in  the  house  ; 
When  the  fires  burn  low  and  red, 
And  the  watch  is  ticking  loudly 

Beside  the  bed : 
Though  you  sleep,  tired  out,  on  your  couch. 
Still  your  heart  must  wake  and  watch 

In  the  dark  room, 
For  it  may  be  that  at  midnight 

I  will  come. 

"  It  may  be  at  the  cock-crow, 
When  the  night  is  dying  slowly 

In  the  sky. 
And  the  sea  looks  calm  and  holy, 

Waiting  for  the  dawn 

Of  the  golden  sun 

Which  draweth  nigh ; 
When  the  mists  are  on  the  valleys,  shading 

The  rivers  chill, 
And  my  morning-star  is  fading,  fading 

Over  the  hill : 
Behold  I  say  unto  you  :  Watch  ; 
Let  the  door  be  on  the  latch 

In  your  home ; 
In  the  chill  before  the  dawning, 
Between  the  night  and  morning, 

I  may  come. 


Coming  93 

*'  It  may  be  in  the  morning, 

When  the  sun  is  bright  and  strong, 
And  the  dew  is  glittering  sharply 

Over  the  little  lawn  ; 
When  the  waves  are  laughing  loudly 

Along  the  shore, 
And  the  little  birds  are  singing  sweetly 

About  the  door ; 
With  the  long  day's  work  before  you. 

You  rise  up  with  the  sun, 
And  the  neighbors  come  in  to  talk  a  little 

Of  all  that  must  be  done  : 
B  remember  that  /  may  be  the  next 

To  come  in  at  the  door, 
To  call  you  from  all  your  busy  work 

For  evermore  : 
As  you  work  your  heart  must  watch, 

For  the  door  is  on  the  latch 

In  your  room. 
And  it  may  be  in  the  morning 

I  will  come." 

So  He  passed  down  my  cottage  garden, 

By  the  path  that  leads  to  the  sea. 
Till  He  came  to  the  turn  of  the  little  road 

Where  the  birch  and  laburnum  tree 
Lean  over  and  arch  the  way  ; 
There  I  saw  Him  a  moment  stay. 

And  turn  once  more  to  me. 

As  I  wept  at  the  cottage  door, 
And  lift  up  His  hands  in  blessing — 

Then  I  saw  His  face  no  more. 

And  I  stood  still  in  the  doorway. 

Leaning  against  the  wall. 
Not  heeding  the  fair  white  roses. 

Though  I  crushed  them  and  let  them  fall, 


94  domiitd 

Only  looking  down  the  pathway, 

And  looking  toward  the  sea, 
And  wondering,  and  wondering 

When  He  would  come  back  for  me  ; 
Till  I  was  aware  of  an  Angel 

Who  was  going  swiftly  by, 
With  the  gladness  of  one  who  goeth 

In  the  light  of  God  Most  High. 


He  passed  the  end  of  the  cottage 

Toward  the  garden  gate — 
(I  suppose  he  was  come  down 
At  the  setting  of  the  sun 
To  comfort  some  one  in  the  village 

Whose  dwelling  was  desolate) — 
And  he  paused  before  the  door 

Beside  my  place. 
And  the  likeness  of  a  smile 

Was  on  his  face  : 
"  Weep  not,"  he  said,  ''  for  unto  you  is  given 

To  watch  for  the  coming  of  His  feet 
Who  is  the  glory  of  our  blessed  heaven  ; 

The  work  and  watching  will  be   very 
sweet, 

Even  in  an  earthly  home  ; 
And  in  such  an  hour  as  you  think  not 

He  will  come." 


So  I  am  watching  quietly 

Every  day. 
Whenever  the  sun  shines  brightly, 

I  rise  and  say : 
"  Surely  it  is  the  shining  of  His  face  ! " 
And  look  unto  the  gates  of  His  high  place 

Beyond  the  sea ; 


B  (Sluiet  ASinD  95 

For  I  know  He  is  coming  shortly 

To  summon  me. 
And  when  a  shadow  falls  across  the  window 

Of  my  room, 
Where  1  am  working  my  appointed  task, 
I  lift  my  head  to  watch  the  door  and  ask 

If  He  is  come  ; 
And  the  Angel  answers  sweetly 

In  my  home  : 
"  Only  a  few  more  shadows. 

And  He  will  come." 


A    QUIET  MIND. 

T  HAVE  a  treasure  which  I  prize ; 
^     Its  like  I  can  not  find  : 
There 's  nothing  like  it  on  the  earth ; 
'  T  is  this — a  quiet  mind. 

But '  t  is  not  that  I  'm  stupefied, 

Or  senseless,  dull,  or  blind  ; 
'Tis  God's  own  peace  within  my  heart, 

Which  forms  my  quiet  mind. 

I  found  this  treasure  at  the  cross  : 

And  there  to  every  kind 
Of  weary,  heavy-laden  souls 

Christ  gives  a  quiet  mind. 

My  Saviour's  death  and  risen  life 

To  give  it  were  designed  : 
His  love,  the  never-failing  spring 

Of  this,  my  quiet  mind. 


96  mi  16  Xidbt 

The  love  of  God  within  my  breast, 
My  heart  to  Him  doth  bind  ; 

This  is  the  peace  of  heaven  on  earth— 
This  is  my  quiet  mind. 

I  've  many  a  cross  to  take  up  now, 

And  many  left  behind  ; 
But  present  troubles  move  me  not, 

Nor  shake  my  quiet  mind. 

And  what  may  be  to-morrow's  cross, 

I  never  seek  to  find  ; 
My  Saviour  says  :  Leave  that  to  Me, 

And  keep  a  quiet  mind. 

And  well  I  know  the  Lord  hath  said. 
To  make  my  heart  resigned. 

That  mercy  still  shall  follow  those 
Who  have  this  quiet  mind. 

I  meet  with  pride  of  wit  and  wealth, 
And  scorn,  and  looks  unkind  ; 

It  matters  not — I  envy  none, 
While  I  've  a  quiet  mind. 

I  'm  waiting  now  to  see  my  Lord, 

So  patient  and  so  kind  ; 
I  want  to  thank  Him  face  to  face, 

For  this  my  quiet  mind. 


ALL  IS  LIGHT. 

AX7HAT  though  storm-clouds  gather  round  me, 
Hovering  darkly  o'er  my  way  ? 
While  I  see  the  cross  of  Calvary 
Beaming  with  celestial  ray. 
All  is  light,  all  is  liglit  I 


%omime  97 

What  though  mortal  powers  may  falter  ? 

Earthly  plans  and  prospects  fail  ? 
With  a  heaven-born  hope  which  entereth 

E'en  to  that  within  the  veil, 
All  is  light,  all  is  light  I 

What  though  all  my  future  pathway 

Be  from  mortal  sight  concealed  ? 
With  the  love  of  Jesus  glowing, 

As  it  lies  to  faith  revealed, 
All  is  light,  all  is  light ! 


E'en  though  death's  deep  vale  before  me 
Seem  o'erspread  with  thickest  gloom. 

While  I  see  a  heavenly  radiance 
Bursting  from  beyond  the  tomb, 
All  is  light,  all  is  light ! 


LONGINGS  . 

\A/HEN  shall  I  be  at  rest?    My  trembling  heart 
Grows  weary  of  its  burden,  sickening  still 
With  hopes  deferred.     Oh !  that  it  were  Thy  will 
To  loose  my  bonds,  and  take  me  where  Thou  art ! 

When  shall  I  be  at  rest  ?    My  eyes  grow  dim    ♦ 
With  straining  through  the  gloom  ;  I  scarce  can  see 
The  waymarks  that  my  Saviour  left  for  me. 

Would  it  were  morn,  and  I  were  safe  with  Him  ! 

When  shall  I  be  at  rest  ?    Hand  over  hand 
I  grasp,  and  climb  an  ever  steeper  hill, 
A  rougher  path.     Oh  !  that  it  were  Thy  will 

My  tired  feet  might  tread  the  Promised  Land  I 


98  Mxit>Qce 

Oh  I  that  I  were  at  rest  I  A  thousand  fears 
Come  thronging  o'er  me,  lest  I  fall  at  last. 
Would  I  were  safe,  all  toil  and  danger  past, 

And  Thine  own  hands  might  wipe  away  my  tears. 

Oh  I  that  I  were  at  rest,  like  some  I  love, 
Whose  last  fond  looks  drew  half  my  life  away, 
Seeming  to  plead  that  either  they  might  stay 

With  me  on  earth,  or  I  with  them  above. 

But  why  these  murmurs  ?    Thou  didst  never  shrink 

From  any  toil  or  weariness  for  me — 

Not  even  from  that  last  deep  agony. 
Shall  I  beneath  my  little  trials  sink  ? 

No,  Lord ;  for  when  I  am  indeed  at  rest, 
One  taste  of  that  deep  bliss  will  quite  efface 
The  sternest  memories  of  my  earthly  race, 

Save  but  to  swell  the  sense  of  being  blest. 

Then  lay  on  me  whatever  cross  I  need 
To  bring  me  there.     I  know  Thou  canst  not  be 
Unkind,  unfaithful,  or  untrue  to  me  ! 

Shall  I  not  toil  for  Thee,  when  Thou  for  me  didst  bleed? 


BRIDGES. 

T.  HAVE  a  bridge  within  my  heart, 
Known  as  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  ; 
It  stretches  from  life's  sunny  path, 
To  where  its  darkness  lies. 

And  when  upon  this  bridge  I  stand 

To  watch  life's  tide  below. 
Sad  thoughts  come  from  the  shadow}^  land 

And  darken  all  its  flow. 


JBriDges  99 


Then,  as  it  winds  its  way  along 
To  sorrow's  bitter  sea, 

Oh  !  mournful  is  the  spirit-song 
That  upward  floats  to  me. 


A  song  which  breathes  of  blessings  dead, 
Of  friends  and  friendships  flown  ; 

And  pleasures  gone  ! — their  distant  tread 
Now  to  an  echo  grown. 

And  hearing  thus,  beleaguering  fears 

Soon  shut  the  present  out, 
While  joy  but  in  the  past  appears. 

And  in  the  future  doubt. 

Oh  !  often  then  will  deeper  grow 

The  night  that  round  me  lies ; 
I  wish  that  life  had  run  its  flow, 

Or  never  found  its  rise  ! 

I  have  a  bridge  within  my  heart. 
Known  as  the  Bridge  of  Faith ; 

It  spans,  by  a  mysterious  art, 
The  streams  of  life  and  death. 

And  when  upon  this  bridge  I  stand. 

To  watch  the  tide  below, 
Sweet  thoughts  come  from  the  sunny  lahd 

And  brighten  all  its  flow. 

Then,  as  it  winds  its  way  along     • 

Down  to  a  distant  sea, 
Oh  !  pleasant  is  the  spirit-song 

That  upward  floats  to  me. 


**  jf atber,  Q:ake  /llbg  IbanD  ** 

A  song  of  blessings  never  sere, 

Of  love  "  beyond  compare," 
Of  pleasures  flowed  from  troublings  here, 

To  rise  serenely  there. 

And,  hearing  thus,  a  peace  divine 

Soon  shuts  each  sorrow  out ; 
And  all  is  hopeful  and  benign. 

Where  all  was  fear  and  doubt. 

Oh  I  often  then  will  brighter  grow 
The  light  that  round  me  lies  ; 

I  see  from  life's  beclouded  flow 
A  crystal  stream  arise. 


"  FATHER,  TAKE  MY  HAND." 

•THE  way  is  dark,  my  Father  I   Cloud  on  cloud 
Is  gathering  thickly  o'er  my  head,  and  loud 
The  thunders  roar  above  me.     See,  I  stand 
Like  one  bewildered  !  Father,  take  my  hand, 
And  through  the  gloom 
Lead  safely  home 
Thy  child  ! 

The  day  goes  fast,  my  Father  !  and  the  night 
Is  drawing  darkly  down.  My  faithless  sight 
Sees  ghostly  visions.  Fears,  a  spectral  band. 
Encompass  me.     O  Father  !  take  my  hand, 

And  from  the  night 

Lead  up  to  light 
Thy  child  ! 

The  way  is  long,  my  Father  !  and  my  soul 
Longs  for  the  rest  and  quiet  of  the  goal : 


^be  (5ractou0  flj]6vver  .    .  loi 

While  yet  I  journey'thrbugh'this  weary  land, 
Keep  me  from  wandering.    Father,  take  my  hand  ; 

Quickly  and  straight 

Lead  to  heaven's  gate 
Thy  child ! 

The  path  is  rough,  my  Father  !    Many  a  thorn 
Has  pierced  me  ;  and  my  weary  feet,  all  torn 
And  bleeding,  mark  the  way.     Yet  Thy  command 
Bids  me  press  forward.     Father,  take  my  hand  ; 

Then,  safe  and  blest, 

Lead  up  to  rest 
Thy  child  ! 

The  throng  is  great,  my  Father  !     Many  a  doubt 
And  fear  and  danger  compass  me  about : 
And  foes  oppress  me  sore.     I  can  not  stand 
Or  go  alone.    O  Father  !  take  my  hand. 

And  through  the  throng 

Lead  safe  along 
Thy  child  I 

The  cross  is  heavy,  Father  !     I  have  borne 
It  long,  and  still  do  bear  it.     Let  my  worn 
And  fainting  spirit  rise  to  that  blest  land 
Where  crowns  are  given.     Father,  take  my  hand 

And,  reaching  down, 

Lead  to  the  crown 
Thy  child ! 


THE  GRACIOUS  ANSWER. 

fJJHE  way  is  dark,  my  child  !  hut  leads  to  light , 
-^      I  would  not  always  have  thee  walk  by  sight. 
My  dealings  now,  thou  canst  not  understand. 
I  meant  it  so ;  hut  I  will  take  thy  hand. 
And  through  the  gloom 
Lead  safely  home 
My  child  ! 


[02  ,    .  -^b.e  .O.raciouB  Bnswer 

The  day  goes  fast,  my  chitd  !  "  But  is  the  night 
Darker  to  me  than  day  9    In  me  is  light ! 
Keep  clone  to  me,  and  every  spectral  hand 
Of  fears  shall  vanish.    I  will  take  thy  hand, 

And  through  the  night 

Lead  up  to  light 
My  child  ! 

The  way  is  long,  my  child  !     But  it  shall  he 

Not  one  step  longer  than  is  hest  for  thee ; 

And  thou  shalt  know,  at  last,  when  thou  shalt  stand 

Safe  at  the  goal,  how  I  did  take  thy  hand. 

And  quick,  and  straight 

Led  to  heaven's  gate 
My  child  ! 

The  path  is  rough,  my  child  !    But  oh  !  how  siveet 
Will  he  the  rest,  for  weary  pilgrims  meet. 
When  thou  shalt  reach  the  horders  of  that  land 
To  which  I  lead  thee,  as  I  take  thy  hand ; 

And  safe  and  hlest 

With  Me  shall  rest 
My  child  ! 

The  throng  is  great,  my  child  I    But  at  thy  side 
Thy  Father  walks  :  then  he  not  terrified  : 
For  1  am  with  thee ;  will  thy  foes  command 
To  let  thee  freely  pass ;  will  take  thy  hand. 

And  through  the  throng 

Lead  safe  along 
My  child  I 

The  cross  is  heavy,  child  !    Yet  there  was  One 
WJio  hore  a  heavier  for  thee  :  my  Son, 
My  WelUheloved,     For  Him  bear  thine ;  and  stand 


^be  Bbeent  XorD  103 

With  Him  at  last ;  and,  from,  thy  Father's  hand. 
Thy  cross  laid  down, 
Receive  a  crown^ 
My  child  1 


THE  ABSENT  LORD. 

lyyi  Y  Lord  was  taken  from  me  ;  day  by  day 

My  heart  grew  heavier  with  the  sins  it  bore, 
While  many  dulcet  voices  came  to  say, 

Why  weepest  thou  ?     If  He  come  back  no  more, 
Give  o'er  thy  sorrow,  needless  at  the  best. 

So  I  their  call  obeyed, 

And  knew  not,  yet  would  know  where  He  was  laid, 
And  could  not  be  at  rest. 

I  was  a  wanderer  thence  from  place  to  place. 

I  questioned  some  who  sat  within  the  gate. 
And  saw  the  play  of  the  incredulous  face  ; 

On  others  scanned  the  look  of  scorn  and  hate. 
My  heart  grew  hard, — I  say  not  how  or  why,— 

While  I  my  search  delayed 

I  cared  not  where  my  Master  had  been  laid, 
Or  would  His  name  deny. 

Thus  in  the  day  I  could  my  loss  forget. 
As  He  was  crowded  from  me  by  the  press  ; 

At  night,  my  soul,  with  many  fears  beset. 
Would  oft  with  tears  its  shame  and  loss  confess, 

And  sick,  alone,  afraid. 

Cry  out,  O  world,  tell  where  my  Lord  is  laid, 
Or  let  me  love  thee  less. 

One  time  I  thought  on  Peter  in  the  hall. 
And  soon  of  Mary  waiting  at  the  grave  ; 


I04  Bsleep  on  0uarD 

Then  of  the  smiting  of  the  threatening  Saul, — 
And  was  not  Jesus  near  to  help  and  save? 

O  light  that  came,  and  why  the  long  delay  ? 
I  had  my  Lord  conveyed 
Afar,  forgetting  where  He  had  been  laid, 

And  gone  upon  my  way — 

My  way,  and  He  had  risen  to  follow  me, — 

Me  all  unworthy,  ne'er  by  Him  forgot ; 
O  wondrous  love,  that  could  so  patient  be  I 

My  eyes  were  holden  that  I  knew  Him  not  I 
Peace  came  at  last,  as  to  the  twain  that  day 

Who  from  Jerusalem  strayed  ; 

And  while  they  talked  of  where  He  had  been  laid. 
He  met  them  by  the  way  I 


ASLEEP  ON  GUARD! 

4  4  r\  SHAME  ! "  we  're  sometimes  fain  to  say, 

' '  On  Peter  sleeping,  while  his  dear  Lord  lay 
Awake  with  anguish  in  the  garden's  shade, 
Waiting  His  hour  to  be  betrayed." 

We  say,  or  think,  if  we  had  gone 
Thither — instead  of  Peter,  James,  and  John — 
And  Christ  had  left  us  on  the  outpost  dim. 
As  sentinels,  to  watch  with  Him  ; 

We  would  have  sooner  died,  than  sleep 

The  little  time  we  vigil  had  to  keep  ; 

Then  wake,  to  feel  His  torturing  question's  power : 

"  Could  ye  not  watch  with  Me  one  hour  ?  " 

One  hour  in  sad  Gethsemane  ! 
And  such  an  hour  as  that  to  Him  must  be  ! 
All  night  our  tireless  eyes  had  pierced  the  shade 
Where  He  in  grief's  great  passion  prayed. 


tTbe  1bour  of  iprai^er  105 

What  do  we  now,  to  make  our  word 
Seem  no  vain  boast  of  love  to  Christ  our  Lord  ? 
We  can  not  take  the  children  sleeper's  place, 
And  shun,  by  proof,  his  deep  disgrace  I 

No  more,  the  olive's  shade  beneath, 
The  human  Christ  foretastes  the  cup  of  death, 
And  leaves  His  servants  in  the  outer  gloom, 
To  watch  till  He  again  shall  come  I 

Yet  are  there  midnights  dark  and  dread, 
When  Jesus  still  by  traitors  is  betrayed  ; 
Our  bosom-sin 's  the  lurking  foe  at  hand. 
And  "  Watch  with  Me"  is  Christ's  command. 

One  little  hour  of  sleepless  care. 
And  sin  could  wrest  no  victory  from  us  there  ; 
But,  with  the  fame  of  our  loved  Lord  to  keep, 
Like  those  we  scorn,  we  fall  asleep. 

Oh  !  if  our  risen  Lord  must  chide 
Our  souls,  for  slumbering  His  death-cross  beside, 
What  face  have  we  to  boast  our  feeble  sense 
Had  shamed  poor  Peter's  vigilance  ! 

On  Peter,  James,  and  John,  no  more 
The  wrong  reproach  of  hasty  pride  we  pour  ; 
But  feel  within  the  question's  torturing  power, 
"  Could  ye  not  watch  with  Me  one  hour  ?  " 


THE  HOUR  OF  PRAYER. 

ly/l  Y  God,  is  any  hour  so  sweet, 
*    From  blush  of  morn  to  evening  star, 

As  that  which  calls  me  to  Thy  feet — 
The  hour  of  prayer  I 


io6  Zb^  TOill  :Bc  2)one 

Blest  is  that  tranquil  hour  of  morn, 
And  blest  that  hour  of  solemn  eve, 

When,  on  the  wings  of  faith  up-borne, 
The  world  I  leave  ! 

For  then  a  dayspring  shines  on  me, 
Brighter  than  morn's  ethereal  glow  ; 

And  richer  dews  descend  from  Thee 
Than  earth  can  know. 

Then  is  my  strength  by  Thee  renewed  ; 

Then  do  I  feel  my  sins  forgiven  ; 
Then  dost  Thou  cheer  my  solitude 

With  joys  of  heaven. 

No  words  can  tell  what  sweet  relief 
There  for  my  every  want  I  find  ; 

What  strength  for  warfare,  balm  for  grief. 
What  peace  of  mind. 

Hushed  is  each  doubt,  gone  every  fear  ; 

My  spirit  seems  in  heaven  to  stay  ; 
And  even  the  penitential  tear 

Is  wiped  away. 

Lord  !  till  I  reach  that  blissful  shore. 

No  privilege  so  dear  shall  be, 
As  thus  my  inmost  soul  to  pour 

In  prayer  to  Thee. 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE. 

\A7E  see  not,  know  not.     All  our  way 

Is  night.     With  Thee  alone  is  day. 
From  out  the  torrent's  troubled  drift, 
Above  the  storm — our  prayers  we  lift — 
Thy  will  be  done  I 


JLb^  mtll  JBe  Done  107 

The  flesh  may  fail,  the  heart  may  faint, 
But  who  are  we,  to  make  complaint. 
Or  dare  to  plead,  in  times  like  these, 
The  weakness  of  our  love  of  ease  ? 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

We  take  with  solemn  thankfulness 
Our  burden  up,  nor  ask  it  less  ; 
And  count  it  joy  that  even  we 
May  suffer,  serve,  or  wait  for  Thee, 
Whose  will  be  done  ! 

Though  dim,  as  yet,  in  tint  and  line. 
We  trace  Thy  picture's  wise  design. 
And  thank  Thee  that  our  age  supplies 
Its  dark  relief  of  sacrifice — 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

And  if,  in  our  unworthiness. 
Thy  sacrificial  wine  we  press  ; 
If,  from  Thy  ordeal's  heated  bars. 
Our  feet  are  seamed  with  crimson  scars, 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

If,  for  the  age  to  come,  this  hour 
Of  trial  hath  vicarious  power  ; 
And,  blest  by  Thee,  our  present  pain 
Be  Liberty's  eternal  gain, 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

Strike  !  Thou  the  Master,  we  Thy  keys. 
The  anthem  of  the  destinies  ! 
The  minor  of  Thy  loftier  strain. 
Our  hearts  shall  breathe  the  old  refrain— 
Thy  will  be  done  I 


HYMN  OF  TRUST. 

r\  LOVE  Divine  !  that  stooped  to  share 
^     Our  sharpest  pang,  our  bitterest  tear  ; 
On  Thee  we  cast  each  earth-born  care  ; 
We  smile  at  pain  while  Thou  art  near  ! 

Though  long  the  weary  way  we  tread, 
And  sorrows  crown  each  lingering  year. 

No  path  we  shun,  no  darkness  dread, 
Our  hearts  still  whispering.  Thou  art  near. 

When  drooping  pleasure  turns  to  grief. 
And  trembling  faith  is  changed  to  fear. 

The  murmuring  wind,  the  quivering  leaf, 
Shall  softly  tell  us  Thou  art  near  ! 

On  Thee  we  fling  our  burdening  woe, 

O  Love  Divine  !  forever  dear  ; 
Content  to  suffer,  while  we  know. 

Living,  and  dying.  Thou  art  near  ! 


THE  BURIAL  OF  MOSES. 

O  Y  Nebo's  lonely  mountain. 

On  this  side  Jordan's  wave. 
In  a  vale  in  the  land  of  Moab, 

There  lies  a  lonely  grave  ; 
And  no  man  dug  that  sepulchre. 

And  no  man  saw  it  e'er. 
For  the  "  Sons  of  God"  upturned  the  sod, 
And  laid  the  dead  raan  there. 
io8 


Zbc  JSSutial  or  aso6C0  109 

That  was  the  grandest  funeral 

That  ever  passed  on  earth  ; 
But  no  man  heard  the  trampling, 

Or  saw  the  train  go  forth. 
Noiselessly  as  the  daylight 

Comes  when  the  night  is  done, 
And  the  crimson  streak  on  ocean's  cheek 

Grows  into  the  great  sun — 


Noiselessly  as  the  springtime 

Her  crown  of  verdure  weaves. 
And  all  the  trees  on  all  the  hills 

Open  their  thousand  leaves ; 
So,  without  sound  of  music. 

Or  voice  of  them  that  wept, 
Silently  down  from  the  mountain's  crown 

The  great  procession  swept. 

Perchance  the  bald  old  eagle. 

On  gray  Beth-peor's  height, 
Out  of  his  rocky  eyry 

Looked  on  the  wondrous  sight ; 
Perchance  the  lion  stalking, 

Still  shuns  that  hallowed  spot : 
For  beast  and  bird  have  seen  and  heard 

That  which  man  knoweth  not. 


But  when  the  warrior  dieth, 

His  comrades  in  the  war. 
With  arms  reversed,  and  muffled  drum, 

Follow  the  funeral  car. 
They  show  the  banners  taken, 

They  tell  his  battles  won. 
And  after  him  lead  his  masterless  steed, 

While  peals  the  minute-gun. 


XLbc  JSurial  of  IKsoece 

Amid  the  noblest  of  the  land 

Men  lay  the  sage  to  rest, 
And  give  the  bard  an  honored  place, 

With  costly  marble  drest — 
In  the  great  minster  transept, 

Where  lights  like  glories  fall, 
And  the  sweet  choir  sings,  and  the  organ  rings 

Along  the  emblazoned  wall. 

This  was  the  bravest  warrior 

That  ever  buckled  sword  ; 
This,  the  most  gifted  poet 

That  ever  breathed  a  word  ; 
And  never  earth's  philosopher 

Traced  with  his  golden  pen. 
On  the  deathless  page,  truths  half  so  sage 

As  he  wrote  down  for  men. 


And  had  he  not  high  honor? 

The  hillside  for  his  pall. 
To  lie  in  state  while  angels  w^ait, 

With  stars  for  tapers  tall. 
And  the  dark  rock-pines  Uke  tossing  plumes 

Over  his  bier  to  wave. 
And  God's  own  hand,  in  that  lonely  land. 

To  lay  him  in  the  grave  ! 


In  that  deep  grave  without  a  name. 

Whence  his  uncoffined  clay 
Shall  break  again — most  wondrous  thought- 

Before  the  Judgment-day, 
And  stand,  with  glory  wrapped  around. 

On  the  hills  he  never  trod. 
And  speak  of  the  strife  that  won  our  life 

With  the  Incarnate  Son  of  God. 


O  lonely  tomb  in  Moab's  land  I 

O  dark  Beth-peor  hill ! 
Speak  to  these  curious  hearts  of  ours, 

And  teach  them  to  be  still. 
God  hath  His  mysteries  of  grace, 

Ways  that  we  can  not  tell ; 
And  hides  them  deep,  like  the  secret  sleep 

Of  him  He  loved  so  well. 


'NOW. 


D ISE  !  for  the  day  is  passing, 

^    And  you  lie  dreaming  on  ; 
The  others  have  buckled  their  armor, 

And  forth  to  the  fight  are  gone  : 
A  place  in  the  ranks  awaits  you, 

Each  man  has  some  part  to  play  ; 
The  Past  and  the  Future  are  looking 

In  the  face  of  the  stern  To-day. 


THE  NEED  OF  JESUS. 

I  NEED  Thee,  precious  Jesus  1 
*      For  I  am  full  of  sin  ; 
My  soul  is  dark  and  guilty. 

My  heart  is  dead  within ; 
I  need  the  cleansing  fountain, 

Where  I  can  always  flee — 
The  blood  of  Christ  most  precious, 

The  sinner's  perfect  plea. 

I  need  Thee,  precious  Jesus  I 

For  I  am  very  poor ; 
A  stranger  and  a  pilgrim, 

I  have  no  earthly  store  ; 


Zbc  IRecD  ot  5e0U0 

I  need  the  love  of  Jesus, 
To  cheer  me  on  my  way, 

To  guide  my  doubting  footsteps, 
To  be  my  strength  and  stay. 

I  need  Thee,  precious  Jesus  ! 

I  need  a  friend  like  Thee — 
A  friend  to  soothe  and  sympathize 

A  friend  to  care  for  me  ; 
I  need  the  heart  of  Jesus, 

To  feel  each  anxious  care, 
To  tell  my  every  want, 

And  all  my  sorrows  share. 

I  need  Thee,  precious  Jesus  I 

For  I  am  very  blind  ; 
A  weak  and  foolish  wanderer, 

With  a  dark  and  evil  mind ; 
I  need  the  light  of  Jesus, 

To  tread  the  thorny  road. 
To  guide  me  safe  to  glory — 

Where  I  shall  see  my  God. 

I  need  Thee,  precious  Jesus  ! 

I  need  Thee  day  by  day — 
To  fill  me  with  Thy  fulness, 

To  lead  me  on  my  way  ; 
I  need  Thy  Holy  Spirit, 

To  teach  me  what  I  am. 
To  show  me  more  of  Jesus, 

To  point  me  to  the  Lamb. 

I  need  Thee,  precious  Jesus  I 
And  hope  to  see  Thee  soon, 

Encircled  with  the  rainbow, 
And  seated  on  Thy  throne  ; 


Xlbc  Cbttstian  auD  Ibid  £cbo  113 

There,  with  Thy  blood-bought  children, 

My  joy  shall  ever  be, 
To  sing  Thy  praises,  Jesus  I 

To  gaze,  my  Lord,  on  Thee  I 


THE  CHRISTIAN  AND  HIS  ECHO. 

nrRUE  faith,  producing  love  to  God  and  man, 
*     Say,  Echo,  is  not  this  the  Gospel  plan  ? 
The  Gospel  plan. 

Must  I  ray  faith  and  love  to  Jesus  show, 
By  doing  good  to  all,  both  friend  and  foe  ? 
Both  friend  and  foe. 


But  if  a  brother  hates  and  treats  me  ill. 
Must  I  return  him  good,  and  love  him  still? 
.  Love  him  still. 

If  he  my  failings  watches  to  reveal. 
Must  I  his  faults  as  carefully  conceal? 
As  carefully  conceal. 

But  if  my  name  and  character  he  blast, 
And  cruel  malice,  too,  a  long  time  last, 
And,  if  I  sorrow  and  affliction  know, 
He  loves  to  add  unto  my  cup  of  woe  ; 
In  this  uncommon,  this  peculiar  case. 
Sweet  Echo,  say,  must  I  still  love  and  bless? 
Still  love  and  bless. 

Whatever  usage  ill  I  may  receive. 
Must  I  be  patient  still,  and  still  forgive? 
Be  patient  still,  and  still  forgive. 

8 


114  Xc66  anD  ^ore 

Why,  Echo,  how  is  this  !  thou  'rt  sure  a  dove ! 
Thy  voice  shall  teach  me  nothing  else  but  love  I 
Nothing  else  but  love. 

Amen  I  with  all  my  heart,  then  be  it  so  ; 
'T  is  all  delightful,  just,  and  good,  I  know : 
And  now  to  practise  I  '11  directly  go. 
Directly  go. 

Things  being  so,  whoever  me  reject, 
My  gracious  God  me  surely  will  protect. 
Surely  will  protect. 

Henceforth  I  *11  roll  on  Him  my  every  care, 
And  then  both  friend  and  foe  embrace  in  prayer. 
Embrace  in  prayer. 

But  after  all  those  duties  I  have  done, 
Must  I,  in  point  of  merit,  then  disown. 
And  trust  for  heaven  through  Jesus'  blood  alone  ? 
Through  Jesus'  blood  alone. 

Echo,  enough  !  thy  counsels  to  mine  ear 
Are  sweeter  than,  to  flowers,  the  dew-drop  tear. 
Thy  wise  instructive  lessons  please  me  well  : 
I  '11  go  and  practise  them.     Farewell,  farewell ! 
Practise  them.     Farewell,  farewell ! 


LESS  AND  MORE. 

"TWO  prayers,  dear  Lord,  in  one — 

Give  me  both  less  and  more  ; 
Less  of  the  impatient  world,  and  more  of  Thee  ; 

Less  of  myself,  and  all  that  heretofore 
Made  me  to  slip  where  willing  feet  do  run. 
And  held  me  back  from  where  I  fain  would  be — 
Kept  me,  my  Lord,  from  Thee  I 


Comtort  b^  tbe  TOai?  115 

All  things  which  most  I  need 

Are  Thine  ;  Thou  wilt  bestow 
Both  strength  and  shield,  and  be  my  willing  Guest ; 
Yet  my  weak  heart  takes  up  a  broken  reed, 

Thy  rod  and  staff  doth  readily  forego, 
And  I,  who  might  be  rich,  am  poor,  distressed, 
And  seek,  but  have  not  rest. 

How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long  ? 

So  have  I  cried  of  late, 
As  though  I  knew  not  what  I  well  do  know  : 

Come  Thou,  Great  Master  Builder,  and  create 
Anew  that  which  is  Thine  ;  undo  my  wrong — 
Breathe  on  this  waste,  and  life  and  health  bestow. 
Come,  Lord,  let  it  be  so  ! 

Let  it  be  so,  and  then — 

What  then  ?    My  soul  shall  wait, 
And  ever  pray — all  prayers,  dear  Lord,  in  one — 

Thy  will  o'er  mine  in  all  this  mortal  state 
Hold  regal  sway.    To  Thy  commands,  Amen  I 
Break  from  my  waiting  lips  till  work  is  done, 
And  crown  and  glory  won. 


COMFORT  BY  THE  WAY. 

T  JOURNEY  through  a  desert  drear  and  wild, 

Yet  is  my  heart  by  such  sweet  thoughts  beguiled, 
Of  Him  on  whom  I  lean — my  strength  and  stay — 
I  can  forget  the  sorrows  of  the  way. 

Thoughts  of  His  love  !  the  root  of  every  grace 
Which  finds  in  this  poor  heart  a  dwelling-place  ; 
The  sunshine  of  my  soul,  than  day  more  bright, 
And  my  calm  pillow  of  repose  by  night. 


ii6  •Retrospect 

Thoughts  of  His  sojourn  in  this  vale  of  tears, 
The  tale  of  love  unfolded  in  those  years 
Of  sinless  suffering  and  patient  grace 
I  love  again,  and  yet  again,  to  trace. 

Thoughts  of  His  glory  !  on  the  cross  I  gaze, 
And  there  behold  its  sad,  yet  healing  rays  ; 
Beacon  of  hope  I  which,  lifted  up  on  high, 
Illumes  with  heavenly  light  the  tear-dimmed  eye. 

Thoughts  of  His  coming  !    For  that  joyful  day 
In  patient  hope  I  watch,  and  wait,  and  pray  ; 
The  dawn  draws  nigh,  and  midnight  shadows  flee, 
And  what  a  sunrise  will  that  advent  be. 

Thus  while  I  journey  on,  my  Lord  to  meet. 
My  thoughts  and  meditations  are  so  sweet 
Of  ICim  on  whom  I  lean — my  strength,  my  stay — 
I  can  forget  the  sorrows  of  the  way. 


RETROSPECT. 

r\  LOVING  One  !  O  Bounteous  One  ! 

What  have  I  not  received  from  Thee 
Throughout  the  seasons  that  have  gone 
Into  the  past  eternity  ! 

Lowly  my  name  and  mine  estate  ; 

Yet,  Father,  many  a  child  of  Thine, 
Of  purer  heart  and  cleaner  hands. 

Walks  in  an  humbler  path  than  mine. 

And,  looking  backward  through  the  year 
Along  the  way  my  feet  have  pressed, 

I  see  sweet  places  everywhere — 
Sweet  places  where  my  soul  had  rest. 


» 


:a  SunDas  tTbouflbt  117 

For,  though  some  human  hopes  of  mine 
Are  dead,  and  buried  from  my  sight, 

Yet  from  their  graves  immortal  flowers 
Have  sprung,  and  blossomed  into  light. 

Body,  and  heart,  and  soul  have  been 

Fed  by  the  most  convenient  food  ; 
My  nights  are  peaceful  all  the  while, 

And  all  my  mortal  days  are  good. 

My  sorrows  have  not  been  so  light 
Thy  chastening  hand  I  could  not  trace  ; 

Nor  have  my  blessings  been  so  great 
That  they  have  hid  my  Father's  face. 


A  SUNDAY  THOUGHT. 

T^HE  sunlight  floods  the  hills, 
■*      The  water  ripples  in  the  quiet  bays  ; 
While  through  the  wood  the  gentle  south  wind  plays, 
And  every  stately  pine  with  music  fills. 

I  hear  the  twittering  birds. 
The  chirping  squirrel  running  to  and  fro 
And  in  the  pastures  which  so  well  they  know. 

Contented  browse  the  patient,  lowing  herds. 

No  hum  of  human  life, — 
How  peaceful  yonder  hamlet,  and  how  still  1 
The  moving  air  wakes  no  discordant  thrill. 

No  echoing  sound  of  labor  or  of  strife. 

The  tumult  of  the  earth 
Seems  hushed  to  peace  ;  and  thus,  scarce  knowing  why, 
The  restless  heart  grows  calm,  as  round  it  lie 

The  hidden  forces  of  celestial  birth. 


ii8   Dow  2)otb  Deatb  Speaft  ot  ©ur  JBeloveO? 

Is  it  the  rest  of  peace  ? 
Can  hush  of  sound,  or  air,  or  sky  serene, 
These  quiet  woods,  with  sunny  paths  between, 

Hold  fast  the  soul,  or  bid  its  tumult  cease  ? 

Only  a  few  brief  days. 
And  the  north  wind  will  come,  and  as  a  blast ; 
The  frost  pierce  deep  and  keen,  the  broad  woods  cast 

Their  leafless  shadows  over  dreary  ways. 

Even  the  morning's  sun 
Will  bring  the  struggle  and  the  strife  once  more  ; 
And  in  the  old  round,  as  in  the  days  before, 

1  must  take  up  my  burdens  one  by  one. 

Oh,  promise,  firm  and  sure, — 
"  Not  as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  thee  ; " 
Such,  O  my  Lord,  Thy  promise  is  to  me 

Of  peace, — that  peace  which  ever  shall  endure  ! 

Nor  time,  nor  change,  nor  place 
Shall  wrest  or  break  this  word  ;  to  it  I  hold 
Alike  in  storm  or  calm,  in  heat  or  cold, 

Encompassed  by  Thy  ministry  of  grace. 


HOW  DOTH  DEATH  SPEAK  OF  OUR 
BELOVED? 

"  The  rain  that  falls  upon  the  height 
Too  gently  to  be  called  delight, 
In  the  dark  valley  reappears 
As  a  wild  cataract  of  tears  : 
And  love  in  life  shall  strive  to  see 
Sometimes  what  love  in  death  would  be." 

Angel  in  the  House. 

OOW  doth  Death  speak  of  our  beloved, 

When  it  hath  laid  them  low  ; 
When  it  has  set  its  hallowing  touch 
On  speechless  lip  and  brow  ? 


Dow  H)otb  Beatb  Speak  ot  ©ur  JBeloveD?    1 19 

It  clothes  their  every  gift  and  grace 
With  radiance  from  the  holiest  place, 
With  light  as  from  an  angel's  face  ; 

Recalling  with  resistless  force 
And  tracing  to  their  hidden  source, 
Deeds  scarcely  noticed  in  their  course. 

This  little  loving  fond  device, 

That  daily  act  of  sacrifice, 

Of  which  too  late  we  learn  the  price  I 

Opening  our  weeping  eyes  to  trace 
Simple,  unnoticed  kindnesses. 
Forgotten  notes  of  tenderness, 

Which  evermore  to  us  must  be 
Sacred  as  hymns  in  infancy. 
Learned  listening  at  a  mother's  knee. 

Thus  doth  Death  speak  of  our  beloved, 

When  it  has  laid  them  low  ; 
Then  let  Love  antedate  the  work  of  Death, 

And  do  this  now  ! 


How  doth  Death  speak  of  our  beloved, 
When  it  hath  laid  them  low  ; 

When  it  has  set  its  hallowing  touch 
On  speechless  lip  and  brow  ? 

It  sweeps  their  faults  with  heavy  hand, 
As  sweeps  the  sea  the  trampled  sand, 
Till  scarce  the  faintest  print  is  scanned. 

It  shows  how  such  a  vexing  deed 
Was  but  generous  nature's  weed, 
Or  some  choice  virtue  run  to  seed  ; 


I20    ibow  Dotb  2)eatb  Speak  ot  ©ur  1Bclovct>l 

How  that  small  fretting  fretfulness 
Was  but  love's  over-anxiousness, 
Which  had  not  been,  had  love  been  less. 

This  failing,  at  which  we  repined, 
But  the  dim  shade  of  day  declined, 
Which  should  have  made  us  doubly  kind. 

Thus  doth  Death  speak  of  our  beloved, 

When  it  has  laid  them  low  ; 
Then  let  Love  antedate  the  work  of  Death, 

And  do  this  now  ! 


How  doth  Death  speak  of  our  beloved. 

When  it  has  laid  them  low ; 
When  it  has  set  its  hallowing  touch 

On  speechless  lip  and  brow  ? 

It  takes  each  failing  on  our  part. 
And  brands  it  in  upon  the  heart. 
With  caustic  power  and  cruel  art. 

The  small  neglect  that  may  have  pained, 
A  giant  stature  will  have  gained 
When  it  can  never  be  explained  : 

The  little  service  which  had  proved 
How  tenderly  we  watched  and  loved. 
And  those  mute  Ups  to  glad  smiles  moved. 

The  little  gift  from  out  our  store. 
Which  might  have  cheered  some  cheerless  hour, 
When  they  with  earth's  poor  needs  were  poor, 
But  never  will  be  needed  more  ! 

It  shows  our  faults  like  fires  at  night ; 
It  sweeps  their  failings  out  of  sight. 
It  clothes  their  good  in  heavenly  light. 


B  Cbrietmad  f)i2mn 

O  Christ,  our  life  !  fore-date  the  work  of  Death, 

And  do  this  now  I 
Thou  art  love,  thus  hallow  our  beloved  I 

Not  Death,  but  Thou  ! 


A   CHRISTMAS  HYMN. 

TN  human  form  enthroned 
The  sin  of  man  atoned 

Immanuel  sits  in  highest  seat  of  heaven  ; 
Our  nature  there  He  wears. 
And  that  blest  union  bears. 

In  David's  city  on  the  low  earth  given. 

He  draws  us  by  a  love, 

Not  such  as  seraphs  move 
In  happy  life  through  all  the  realms  of  space ; 

More  subtle  is  the  chord. 

The  speaking  of  a  word 
In  language  learned  among  our  fleshly  race. 

"  My  blood,  once  flowing  free 

Upon  the  darkened  tree. 
Gives  life  to  you  in  heaven's  eternal  room  ; 

The  brother  and  the  friend. 

Through  ages  without  end. 
Shall  e'en  outlast  the  Saviour  from  the  doom." 


THE  WAY,    THE  TRUTH,  AND  THE  LIFE. 

T^HOU  art  the  Way  ! 

All  ways  are  thorny  mazes  without  Thee ; 
Where  hearts  are  pierced,  and  thoughts  all  aimless 
stray. 
In  Thee  the  heart  stands  firm,  the  life  moves  free  : 
Thou  art  our  Way  I 


122        XTbe  W^^f  tbe  ITtutbt  anD  tbe  Xffe 

Thou  art  the  Truth  ! 
Questions  the  ages  break  against  in  vain, 

Confront  the  spirit  in  its  untried  youth ; 
It  starves  while  learning  poison  from  the  grain : 
Thou  art  the  Truth  I 

Thou  art  the  Truth  I 
Truth  for  the  mind,  grand,  glorious,  infinite, 

A  heaven  still  boundless  o'er  its  highest  growth, 
Bread  for  the  heart  its  daily  need  to  meet : 

Thou  art  the  Truth  ! 

Thou  art  the  Light ! 
Earth  beyond  earth  no  faintest  ray  can  give  ; 

Heaven's  shadeless  noontide  blinds  our  mortal  sight ; 
In  Thee  we  look  on  God,  and  love  and  live  : 

Thou  art  our  Light  I 

Thou  art  the  Rock  I 
Doubts  none  can  solve  heave  wild  on  every  side. 

Wave  meeting  wave  of  thought  in  ceaseless  shock  ; 
On  Thee  the  soul  rests  calm  amidst  the  tide  : 

Thou  art  the  Rock  I 

Thou  art  the  Life  I 
All  ways  without  Thee  paths  that  end  in  death  ; 

All  life  without  Thee  with  death's  harvest  rife  ; 
All  truths  dry  bones,  disjoined  and  void  of  breath  : 

Thou  art  our  Life  I 

For  Thou  art  Love  I 
Our  Way  and  End  !  the  way  is  rest  with  Thee  I 

O  living  Truth  1  the  truth  is  life  in  Thee  I 
O  Life  essential  I  life  is  bliss  with  Thee  I 

For  Thou  art  Love  I 


THE  TIME  FOR  PRAYER. 

WHEN  is  the  time  for  prayer? 
With  the  first  beams  that  light  the  morning  sky  ; 
Ere  for  the  toils  of  day  thou  dost  prepare, 

Lift  up  thy  thoughts  on  high ; 
Commend  thy  loved  ones  to  His  watchful  care  ; 
Morn  is  the  time  for  prayer. 

And  in  the  noontide  hour, 

If  worn  by  toil,  or  by  sad  cares  oppressed, 
Then  unto  God  thy  spirit's  sorrow  pour. 

And  He  will  give  thee  rest ; 
Thy  voice  shall  reach  Him  through  the  fields  of  air: 
Noon  is  the  time  for  prayer. 

When  the  bright  sun  hath  set, 
'While  eve's  bright  colors  deck  the  skies ; 

When  with  the  loved  at  home  again  thou  'st  met, 
Then  let  thy  prayers  arise  ; 

For  those  who  in  thy  joys  and  sorrows  share, 

Eve  is  the  time  for  prayer. 

And  when  the  stars  come  forth — 

When  to  the  trusting  heart  sweet  hopes  are  given, 
And  the  deep  stillness  of  the  hour  gives  birth 

To  pure  bright  dreams  of  heaven  ; 
Kneel  to  thy  God— ask  strength,  life's  ills  to  bear, 
Night  is  the  time  for  prayer. 

When  is  the  time  for  prayer? 

In  every  hour^  while  life  is  spared  to  thee  : 
In  crowds  or  solitude,  in  joy  or  care, 
123 


124  Xidbt  in  2)artined6 

Thy  thoughts  should  heavenward  flee. 
At  home,  at  morn  and  eve,  with  loved  ones  there, 
Bend  thou  the  knee  in  prayer ! 


LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS. 


DREEZES  of  spring,  all  earth  to  life  awaking, 
^    Birds  swiftly  soaring  through  the  sunny  sky. 
The  butterfly  its  lonely  prison  breaking. 
The  seed  up-springing  which  had  seemed  to  die. 


Types  such  as  these  a  word  of  hope  have  spoken. 
Have  shed  a  gleam  of  light  around  the  tomb  ; 

But  weary  hearts  longed  for  a  surer  token, 
A  clearer  ray,  to  dissipate  its  gloom. 


And  this  was  granted  I    See  the  Lord  ascending. 
On  crimson  clouds  of  evening  calmly  borne. 

With  hands  out-stretched,  and  looks  of  love  still 
bending 
On  His  bereaved  ones,  who  no  longer  mourn. 


"  I  am  the  resurrection  ! "  hear  Him  saying, 
"  I  am  the  life  ;  he  who  believes  in  Me 

Shall  never  die  ;  the  souls  my  call  obeying 
Soon  where  I  am  for  evermore  shall  be.'' 


Sing  hallelujah  I  light  from  heaven  appearing, 
The  mystery  of  life  and  death  is  plain  ; 

Now  to  the  grave  we  can  descend  unf earing. 
In  sure  and  certain  hope  to  rise  again  ! 


COMMUNION  WITH  GOD, 

I  ORD,  I  am  come  along  with  Thee  ! 
Thy  voice  to  hear,  Thy  face  to  see 

And  feel  Thy  presence  near  ; 
It  is  not  fancy's  lovely  dream, 
Though  wondrous  e'en  to  faith  it  seem, 

That  Thou  dost  wait  me  here. 


A  moment  from  this  outward  life, 
Its  service,  self-denial,  strife, 

I  joyfully  retreat ; 
My  soul,  through  intercourse  with  Thee, 
Strengthened,  refreshed,  and  calmed  shall  be, 

Its  scenes  again  to  meet. 


How  can  it  be  that  one  so  mean, 
A  sinner,  selfish,  dark,  unclean. 

Thus  in  the  Holiest  stands  ? 
And  in  that  light  divinely  pure. 
Which  may  no  stain  of  sin  endure, 

Lifts  up  rejoicing  hands  I 


Jesus  !  the  answer  Thou  hast  given  I 
Thy  death.  Thy  life  have  opened  heaven 

And  all  its  joys  to  me  ; 
Washed  in  Thy  blood— oh  !  wondrous  grace, 
I  'm  holy  as  the  Holy  Place 

In  which  I  worship  Thee. 
125 


126  communion  witb  (5oD 

How  sweet,  how  solemn  thus  to  lie, 
And  feel  Jehovah's  searching  eye 

On  me  well  pleased  can  rest  I 
Because  with  His  Beloved  Son, 
The  Father's  grace  has  made  me  one, 

I  must  be  always  blest. 


The  secret  pangs  I  could  not  tell 

To  dearest  friend — Thou  knowest  well ; 

They  claim  Thy  gracious  heart : 
Thou  dost  remove  with  tender  care. 
Or  sweetly  give  me  strength  to  bear 

The  sanctifying  smart. 


Thy  presence  has  a  wondrous  power  I 
The  sharpest  thorn  becomes  a  flower. 

And  breathes  a  sweet  perfume  ; 
Whate'er  looked  dark  and  sad  before, 
With  happy  light  shines  silvered  o'er, 

There 's  no  such  thing  as  gloom  I 

Thou  know'st  I  have  a  cross  to  bear  ; 
The  needful  stroke  Thou  dost  not  spare, 

To  keep  me  near  Thy  side ; 
But  when  I  see  the  chastening  rod 
In  Thy  pierced  hand,  my  Lord,  my  God  I 

I  feel  so  satisfied  I 


Now,  while  I  tell  Thee  how,  within, 
I  oft  indulge  my  bosom  sin. 

How  faithless  oft  I  prove. 
No  cold  repulse,  no  frown  I  meet. 
But  tender,  soul-subduing,  sweet 

Is  the  rebuke  of  Love, 


THE  SUFFERER  CHEERED. 

1 4  C  AY  !  shall  I  take  the  thorn  away  ?  " 
^    So  spake  my  gracious  Lord — 
*'  O'er  which  thy  sighs  are  heaved  by  day, 
Thy  nightly  tears  are  poured  ? 
Say  !  shall  T  give  thee  rest  and  care. 

Make  earth's  fair  prospects  rise, 
And  bid  thy  bark  o'er  summer  seas 
Float  smoothly  to  the  skies  ? 


"  Shall  peace  and  plenty's  cup  swell  high. 

Health  leap  through  every  vein, 
And  all  exempt  thy  moments  fly 

From  bitter  inward  pain  ? 
Be  naught  to  check  the  inspiring  flow 

Of  human  friendship's  tide  ; 
And  every  want  thy  heart  can  know. 

Be  quickly  satisfied  ? 


**  Know,  thine  ease-loving  heart  might  miss 

The  comfort  with  the  care  ! 
And  that  full  tide  of  earthly  bliss 

Leave  little  room  for  prayer ! 
Few  were  thy  visits  to  the  throne, 

Unhastened  there  by  pain  ; 
Thou,  o'er  thy  bosom-sins,  alone, 

Wouldst  small  advantage  gain  I 


''  Nor  deem  the  highest,  holiest  joy 
A  stranger  still  to  woe  ; 
127 


128  XLbc  Suflerec  CbeereO 

Blest  servants  in  my  high  employ, 
Most  closely  linked  they  go. 

My  love  illumes  with  tenderest  rays 
The  path  of  self-denial ; 

And  burning  bright  the  glory's  blaze 
That  crowns  the  fiery  trial  I 


"  In  conscious  weakness  thou  shalt  hang 

On  my  almighty  arm  I 
Soon  as  the  thorn  inflicts  its  pang, 

I  '11  pour  my  love's  rich  balm. 
Thou  plainest  in  thy  deepest  woe 

Shall  feel  me  at  thy  side  ; 
And,  for  my  praise,  to  all  shalt  show, 

Thou  art  well  satisfied. 


**  Then,  wilt  thou  in  thy  Master's  cup 

Consent  awhile  to  share  ? 
Know,  when  in  love  I  drank  it  up, 

No  wrath  was  left  thee  there  ! 
Thy  Saviour's  love  and  power  to  bless, 

Trust  where  thou  canst  not  see  ! 
And  in  yon  howling  wilderness 

Step  fearless  forth  with  me  I " 


*'*  Lord  !  magnify  Thyself  in  me  I " 

With  faltering  lips  I  said  ; 
For,  strong  to  bear  as  faith  may  be. 

Weak  nature  quails  with  dread  ; 
But  He  who  through  the  shrinking  flesh 

The  spirit's  will  can  read 
Smiled  on  His  work,  and  bade  afresh 

All  grace  meet  all  my  need. 


ALL  IN  CHRIST. 

TN  Thee  my  heart,  O  Jesus  I  finds  repose : 

Thou  bringest  rest  to  all  that  weary  are  ; 
Until  that  Day-spring  from  on  high  arose, 
I  wandered  through  a  night  without  a  star ; 
My  feet  had  gone  astray 
Upon  a  lonely  way  : 
Each  guide  I  followed  failed  me  in  my  need  ; 
Each  staff  I  leaned  on  proved  a  broken  reed. 


Then,  when  in  mine  extremity  to  Thee 

I  turned.  Thy  pity  did  prevent  my  prayer  ; 
From  that  entangling  maze  it  set  me  free, 
And  quickly  loosed  my  heavy  load  of  care, 
Gave  me  the  lofty  scope 
Of  a  heaven-centred  hope, 
And  led  me  on  with  Thee,  a  gentle  Guide, 
Thither,  where  pure  immortal  joys  abide. 

Thou  art  the  great  completion  of  my  soul, 
The  blest  fulfilment  of  its  deepest  need  ; 
When  self -surrendered  to  Thy  mild  control, 
It  enters  into  liberty  indeed  ; 
Thy  love  a  genial  law, 
Its  very  aim  doth  draw 
Within  its  holy  range,  and  sweetly  lure 
Its  longings  toward  the  beautiful  and  pure. 

Thy  presence  is  the  never-failing  spring 
Of  life  and  comfort  in  each  darker  hour ; 

And  through  Thy  grace,  benignly  ministering, 
Grief  wields  a  secret,  purifying  power. 
9  ^29 


I30  **  Ibimself  1batb  2)one  irt  " 

'T  is  sweet,  O  Lord  I  to  know 

Thy  kindredness  with  woe  ; 
Sweeter  to  walk  with  Thee  on  ways  apart 
Than  with  the  world,  where  heart  is  shut  to  heart ! 

For  Thee  eternity  reserves  her  hymn  ; 

For  Thee  earth  has  her  prayers  and  heaven  her  vows ; 
Thy  saints  adore  Thee,  and  the  seraphim, 
Under  Thy  glory,  stoop  their  starry  brows. 
Oh  !  may  that  light  divine 
On  me  still  clearer  shine — 
A  power,  an  inspiration  from  above. 
Lifting  me  higher  to  Thy  perfect  love  I 


"  HIMSELF  HATH  DONE  IT,  " 

4  4  OIMSELF  hath  done  it  "  all  I  Oh,  how  those  wordj 
Should    hush    to    silence    every    murmuring 
thought — 
Himself  hath  done  it — He  who  loves  me  best. 
He  who  my  soul  with  His  own  blood  hath  bought. 

"  Himself  hath  done  it  I "    Can  it  then  be  aught 
Than  full  of  wisdom,  full  of  tenderest  love  ? 

Not  one  unneeded  sorrow  will  He  send. 
To  teach  this  wandering  heart  no  more  to  rove. 

"  Himself  hath  done  it ! "    Yes,  although  severe 
May  seem  the  stroke,  and  bitter  be  the  cup, 

'T  is  His  own  hand  that  holds  it,  and  I  know 
He  11  give  me  grace  to  drink  it  meekly  up. 

"  Himself  hath  done  it  I  "    Oh  !  no  arm  but  His 
Could  e'er  sustain  beneath  earth's  dreary  lot ; 

But  while  I  know  He 's  doing  all  things  well. 
My  heart  His  loving-kindness  questions  not. 


%ivim  TOaters  131 

"Himself   hath    done    it  I "    He    who's    searched  me 
through 

Sees  how  I  cleave  to  earth's  ensnaring  ties  ; 
And  so  He  breaks  each  reed  on  which  my  soul 

Too  much  for  happiness  and  joy  relies. 

"  Himself  hath  done  it ! "    He  would  have  me  see 
What  broken  cisterns  human  friends  must  prove  : 

That  I  may  turn  and  quench  my  burning  thirst 
At  His  own  fount  of  ever-living  love. 

**  Himself  hath  done  it !  "    Then  I  fain  would  say, 
"  Thy  will  in  all  things  evermore  be  done  "; 

E'en  though  that  will  remove  whom  best  I  love, 
While  Jesus  lives  I  cannot  be  alone. 

**  Himself  hath  done  it !  "    Precious,  precious  words, 
*'  Himself,"  my  Father,  Saviour,  Brother,  Friend, 

Whose  faithfulness  no  variation  knows  ; 
Who,  having  loved  me,  loves  me  to  the  end. 

And  when  in  His  eternal  presence  blest, 

I  at  His  feet  my  crown  immortal  cast, 
['11  gladly  own,  with  all  His  ransomed  saints, 

'*  Himself  hath  done  it " — all,  from  first  to  last  I 


LIVING  WATERS. 

TN  some  wild  Eastern  legend  the  story  has  been  told, 
Of  a  fair  and  wondrous  fountain  that  flowed  in  times 

of  old  ; 
Cold  and  crystalline  its  waters,  brightly  glancing  in  the 

ray 
Df  the  summer  moon  at  midnight,  or  the  sun  at  height 

of  day. 


132  %mnQ  TOatera 

And  a  good  angel  resting  there,  once  in  a  favored  hour, 
Infused  into  the  limpid  depths  a  strange  mysterious 

power : 
A  hidden  principle  of  life,  to  rise  and  gush  again. 
Where  but  some  drops  were  scattered  on  the  dry  and 

barren  plain. 

So  the  traveller  might  journey,  not  now  in  fear  and 
haste. 

Far  through  the  mountain-desert,  far  o'er  the  sandy 
waste, 

If  but  he  sought  this  fountain  first,  and  from  its  won- 
drous store 

The  secret  of  unfailing  springs  along  with  him  he  bore. 

Wild  and  fanciful  the  legend — yet  may  not  meanings 

high, 
Visions  of  better  things  to  come,  within  its  shadow  lie  ? 
Type  of  a  better  fountain,  to  mortals  now  unsealed. 
The  full  and  free  salvation  in  Christ  our  Lord  revealed  ? 

Beneath  the  Cross  those  waters  rise,  and  he  who  finds 

them  there 
All  through  the  wilderness  of  life  the  living  stream 

may  bear ; 
And  blessings  follow  in  his  steps,  until  where'er  he  goes 
The  moral  wastes  begin  to  bud  and  blossom  as  the  rose. 

Ho  !  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  to  this  fountain  side  ! 
Drink  freely  of  its  waters,  drink,  and  be  satisfied ! 
Yet  linger  not,  but  hasten  on,  and  bear  to  all  around 
Glad  tidings  of  the  love  and  peace  and  mercy  thou  hast 
found  ! 

To  Afric's  pathless  deserts,  to  Greenland's  frozen  shore — 
Where  din  of  mighty  cities  sounds,  or  savage  monsters 
roar— 


abiDe  mitb  "ds  133 

Wherever  man  may  wander  with  his  heritage  of  woe, 
To  tell  of  brighter  things  above,  go,  brothers,  gladly  go  I 

Then,  as  of  old  in  vision  seen  before  the  prophet's  eyes, 
Broader  and  deeper  on  its  course  the  stream  of  life  shall 

rise  ; 
And  everywhere,  as  on  it  flows,  shall  carry  light  and 

love. 
Peace  and  good- will  to  man  on  earth,   glory  to  God 

above  I 


ABIDE   WITH  US. 

'THE  tender  light  is  fading  where 
*      We  pause  and  linger  still, 
And,  through  the  dim  and  saddened  air, 
We  feel  the  evening  chill. 

Long  hast  Thou  journeyed  with  us,  Lord 

Ere  we  Thy  face  did  know  ; 
Oh  !  still  Thy  fellowship  afford, 

While  dark  the  shadows  grow. 

For  passed  is  many  a  beauteous  field, 

Beside  our  morning  road ; 
And  many  a  fount  to  us  is  sealed 

That  once  so  freshly  flowed. 

The  splendor  of  the  noontide  lies 

On  other  paths  than  ours  ; 
The  dews  that  lave  yon  fragrant  skies 

Will  not  revive  our  flowers. 

It  is  not  now  as  in  the  glow 

Of  life's  impassioned  heat, 
When  to  the  heart  there  seemed  to  flow 

All  that  of  earth  was  sweet. 


134  ^be  Mcttct  Xife 

Something  has  faded— something  died- 

Without  us  and  within  ; 
We  more  than  ever  need  a  guide  ; 

Bhnded  and  weak  with  sin. 

The  weight  is  heavy  that  we  bear, 
Our  strength  more  feeble  grows  I 

"Weary  with  toil  and  pain  and  care, 
We  long  for  sweet  repose. 

Stay  with  us,  gracious  Saviour,  stay 
While  friends  and  hopes  depart  I 

Fainting,  on  Thee  we  wish  to  lay 
The  burden  of  our  heart. 

Abide  with  us,  dear  Lord  !  remain 
Our  Life,  our  Truth,  our  Way  I 

So  shall  our  loss  be  turned  to  gain — 
Night  dawn  to  endless  day. 


THE  BETTER  LIFE. 

'  All  the  way  by  which  the  Lord  thy  God  led  thee.' 

"1X7 HEN  we  reach  a  quiet  dwelling 

'  ^      On  the  strong  eternal  hills, 
And  our  praise  to  Him  is  swelling, 

Who  the  vast  creation  fills  : 
When  the  paths  of  prayer  and  duty 

And  affliction  all  are  trod, 
And  we  wake  and  see  the  beauty 

Of  our  Saviour  and  our  God  ; 

With  the  light  of  resurrection 
When  our  changed  bodies  glow, 

And  we  gain  the  full  perfection 
Of  the  bliss  begun  below  : 


tTbe  JBetter  Xtte  135 

When  the  life  that  flesh  obscureth 

In  each  radiant  form  shall  shine, 
And  the  joy  that  aye  endureth 

Flashes  forth  in  beams  divine  : 

While  we  wave  the  palms  of  glory 

Through  the  long  eternal  years, 
Shall  we  e'er  forget  the  story 

Of  our  mortal  griefs  and  fears  ? 
Shall  we  e'er  forget  the  sadness 

And  the  clouds  that  hung  so  dim, 
When  our  hearts  are  filled  with  gladness 

And  our  tears  are  dried  by  Him  ? 

Shall  the  memory  be  banished 

Of  His  kindness  and  His  care, 
When  the  wants  and  woes  are  vanished 

Which  He  loved  to  soothe  and  share — 
All  the  way  by  which  He  brought  us, 

All  the  grievings  which  He  bore, 
All  the  patient  love  He  taught  us, 

Shall  we  think  of  them  no  more  ? 

Yes  I  we  surely  shall  remember 

How  He  quickened  us  from  death  : 
How  He  fanned  the  dying  ember 

With  His  Spirit's  glowing  breath. 
We  shall  read  the  tender  meaning 

Of  the  sorrows  and  alarms 
As  we  trod  the  desert,  leaning 

On  His  everlasting  arms. 

And  His  rest  will  be  the  dearer 

When  we  think  of  weary  ways 
And  His  light  will  seem  the  clearer 

As  we  muse  on  cloudy  days. 


136  ipras  tor  IDClbom  tXbou  Xoveet 

Oh  I  't  will  be  a  glorious  morrow 
To  a  dark  and  stormy  day  ; 

We  shall  recollect  our  sorrow 
As  the  streams  that  pass  away. 


PRAY  FOR  WHOM  THOU  LOVEST. 

Pray  for  whom  thou  lovest ;  thou  wilt  never  have  any  comfort  of 
his  friendship  for  whom  thou  dost  not  pray. 

VES,  pray  for  whom  thou  lovest ;  thou  may'st  vainly, 

idly  seek 
The  fervid    words    of    tenderness  by  feeble  words  to 


Go  kneel  before    thy    Father's    throne,    and    meekly, 

humbly  there 
Ask  blessings  for  the  loved  one  in  the  silent  hour  of 

prayer. 

Yes,  pray  for  whom  thou  lovest ;  if  uncounted  wealth 

were  tliine — 
The  treasures  of  the  boundless  deep,  the  riches  of  the 

mine — 
Thou  couldst  not  to  thy  cherished  friends  a  gift  so  dear 

impart. 
As  the  earnest  benediction  of  a  deeply-loving  heart. 

Seek  not  the  worldling's  friendship,  it  shall  droop  and 

wane  ere  long 
In  the  cold  and  heartless  glitter  of  the  pleasure-loving 

throng  ; 
But  seek  the  friend  who,  when  thy  prayer  for  him  shall 

murmured  be. 
Breathes  forth  in  faithful  sympathy  a  fervent  prayer  for 

thee. 


Drawing  XRHater  137 

And  should  thy  flowery  path  of  life  become  a  path  of 

pain, 
The  friendship  formed  in  bonds  like  these  thy  spirit 

shall  sustain ; 
Years  may  not  chill,  nor  change  invade,  nor  poverty 

impair, 
The  love  that  grew  and  flourished  at  the  holy  time  of 

prayer. 


DRAWING    WATER. 

T  HAD  drank  with  lip  unsated 

Where  the  founts  of  pleasure  burst ; 
I  had  hewn  out  broken  cisterns. 
And  they  mocked  my  spirit's  thirst. 

And  I  said,  Life  is  a  desert, 

Hot  and  measureless  and  dry  ; 
And  God  will  not  give  me  water, 
Though  I  pray  and  faint  and  die  ! 

Spoke  there  then  a  friend  and  brother : 
**  Rise  and  roll  the  stone  away  I 

There  are  founts  of  life  upspringing 
In  thy  pathway  every  day." 

Then  I  said  my  heart  was  sinful — 
Very  sinful  was  my  speech  ; 

All  the  wells  of  God's  salvation 
Were  too  deep  for  me  to  reach. 

And  he  answered  :  **  Rise  and  labor  I 
Doubt  and  idleness  is  death  ; 

Shape  thou  out  a  goodly  vessel 
With  the  strong  hands  of  thy  faith." 


138  B  (True  2)rcam 

So  I  wrought  and  shaped  the  vessel, 
Then  knelt  lowly,  humbly  there  ; 

And  I  drew  up  living  water 
With  the  golden  chain  of  prayer. 


A  TRUE  DREAM. 

I  DREAMT  we  danced  in  careless  glee, 
*    With  hearts  and  footsteps  light  and  free, 
That  one  so  dearly  loved  and  I, 
As  in  the  childish  days  gone  by 
Forever. 

I  felt  her  arms  around  me  fold, 
I  heard  her  soft  laugh  as  of  old  ; 
Her  eyes  with  smiles  were  brimming  o'er — 
Eyes  we  may  meet  on  earth  no  more 
Forever. 

Then  there  came  mingling  with  my  dreams 
A  sense  perplexed  of  loss  and  change — 
An  echo  dim  of  time  and  tears  ; 
Until  I  said  :  **  How  long  it  seems 
Since  thus  we  danced  I   Is  it  not  strange  ? 
Do  you  not  feel  the  weight  of  years  ? 
Or  dread  life's  evening  shadows  cold  ? 
Or  mourn  to  think  we  must  grow  old  ?  " 
Wondering,  she  paused  a  little  while. 
Then  answered,  with  a  radiant  smile  : 
"No,  never!" 

Wondering  as  if  to  her  I  told 

The  customs  of  some  foreign  land, 

Or  spoke  a  tongue  she  knew  of  old, 
But  could  no  longer  understand  ; 


**Q  XorM  ^bou  IknovoceV*  139 

Till  o'er  her  face  that  sunshine  broke, 
And  with  that  radiant  smile  she  spoke 
That  "Never." 


But  not  until  the  dream  had  fled 
I  knew  the  sense  of  what  she  said  ; 
Young  with  immortal  truth  and  love, 
Child  in  the  Father^s  house  above 
Forever. 

We  echo  back  thy  words  again  ; 
They  smite  us  with  no  grief  or  pain  ; 
We  journey  not  toward  the  night, 
But  to  the  breaking  of  the  light 

Together. 

Our  life  is  no  poor  cisterned  store, 
The  lavish  years  are  draining  low  ; 

But  living  streams  that,  welling  o'er. 
Fresh  from  the  Living  Fountain  flow 
Forever. 


"  O  LORD!  THOU  KNOWEST,  " 

'XHOU  knowest.  Lord,  the  weariness  and  sorrow 

Of  the  sad  heart  that  comes  to  Thee  for  rest 
Cares  of  to-day,  and  burdens  for  to-morrow. 

Blessings  implored,  and  sins  to  be  confessed ; 
I  come  before  Thee  at  Thy  gracious  word, 
And  lay  them  at  Thy  feet — Thou  knowest.  Lord. 

Thou  knowest  all  the  past ;  how  long  and  blindly 

On  the  dark  mountains  the  lost  wanderer  strayed; 
How  the  good  Shepherd  followed,  and  how  kindly 


140  **  O  XorD !  CTbou  Itnoweet " 

He  bore  it  home ,  upon  His  shoulders  laid  ; 
And  healed  the  bleeding  wounds,  and  soothed  the  pain, 
And  brought  back  life,  and  hope,  and  strength  again. 


Thou  knowest  all  the  present,  each  temptation, 
Each  toilsome  duty,  each  foreboding  fear  ; 

All  to  myself  assigned  of  tribulation. 
Or  to  beloved  ones,  than  self  more  dear. 

All  pensive  memories,  as  I  journey  on, 

Longings  for  vanished  smiles,  and  voices  gone  I 

Thou  knowest  all  the  future  :  gleams  of  gladness, 
By  stormy  clouds  too  quickly  overcast ; 

Hours  of  sweet  fellowship,  and  parting  sadness. 
And  the  dark  river  to  be  crossed  at  last : 

Oh  !  what  could  confidence  and  hope  afford 

To  tread  that  path,  but  this — thou  knowest,  Lord! 

Thou  knowest,  not  alone  as  God,  all-knowing  ; 

As  man,  our  mortal  weakness  Thou  hast  proved  ; 
On  earth,  with  purest  sympathies  o'erflowing, 

O  Saviour  I  Thou  hast  wept,  and  Thou  hast  loved  I 
And  Love  and  Sorrow  still  to  Thee  may  come, 
And  find  a  hiding-place,  a  rest,  a  home. 

Therefore  I  come.  Thy  gentle  call  obeying, 
And  lay  my  sins  and  sorrows  at  Thy  feet ; 

On  everlasting  strength  my  weakness  staying. 
Clothed  in  Thy  robe  of  righteousness  complete ; 

Then  rising  and  refreshed,  I  leave  Thy  throne, 

And  follow  on  to  know  as  I  am  known  I 


MINISTRY, 

''The  Son  of  Man   came  not  to   be  ministered   unto,    but   to 
minister." 

C INCE  service  is  the  highest  lot, 

And  all  are  in  one  Body  bound, 
In  all  the  world  the  place  is  not 

Which  may  not  with  this  bliss  be  crowned. 

The  sufferer  on  the  bed  of  pain 

Need  not  be  laid  aside  from  this  ; 
But  for  each  kindness  gives  again 

"  This  joy  of  doing  kindnesses." 


The  poorest  may  enrich  this  feast, 

Not  one  lives  only  to  receive  ; 
But  renders  through  the  hands  of  Christ 

Richer  returns  thsm.  man  can  give. 

The  little  child,  in  trustful  glee. 
With  love  and  gladness  brimming  o'er, 

Many  a  cup  of  ministry 
May  for  the  weary  veteran  pour. 

The  lonely  glory  of  a  throne 
May  yet  this  lowly  joy  preserve  ; 

Love  may  make  that  a  stepping-stone. 
And  raise  "  I  reign  "  into  "  I  serve.*' 

This,  by  the  ministries  of  prayer, 
The  loneliest  life  with  blessings  crowds  ; 

Can  consecrate  each  petty  care. 
Make  angels'  ladders  out  of  clouds. 
141 


142  IFt  Me  men 

Nor  serve  we  only  when  we  gird 
Our  hearts  for  special  ministry  ; 

That  creature  best  has  ministered 
Which  is  what  it  was  meant  to  be 


Birds,  by  being  glad,  their  Maker  bless  ; 

By  simply  shining,  sun  and  star  ; 
And  we,  whose  law  is  love,  serve  less 

By  what  we  do  than  what  we  are. 

Since  service  is  the  highest  lot, 
And  angels  know  no  higher  bliss. 

Then  with  what  good  her  cup  is  fraught 
Who  was  created  but  for  this  I 


IT  IS   WELL. 

CO  they  said,  who  saw  the  wonders 
^    Of  Messiah's  power  and  love  ; 
So  they  sing,  who  see  His  glory 

In  the  Father's  house  above  ; 
Ever  reading,  in  each  record 

Of  the  strangely  varied  past, 
"  All  was  well  which  God  appointed. 

All  has  wrought  for  good  at  last." 

And  on  earth  we  hear  the  echoes 

Of  that  chorus  in  the  sky  ; 
Through  the  day  of  toil  or  weeping 

Faith  can  raise  a  glad  reply. 
It  is  well,  O  saints  departed  ! 

Well  with  you,  forever  blest ; 
Well  with  us,  who  journey  forward 

To  your  glory  and  your  rest  I 


irt  ITS  men  143 

Times  are  changing,  days  are  flying, 

Years  are  quickly  past  and  gone. 
While  the  wildly  mingled  murmur 

Of  life's  busy  hum  goes  on  ; 
Sounds  of  tumult,  sounds  of  triumph, 

Marriage  chimes  and  passing-bell ; 
Yet  through  all  one  key-note  sounding, 

Angels'  watchword  :  **  It  is  well." 

We  may  hear  it,  through  the  rushing 

Of  the  midnight  tempest's  wave  ; 
We  may  hear  it,  through  the  weeping 

Round  the  newly  covered  grave  ; 
In  the  dreary  house  of  mourning, 

In  the  darkened  room  of  pain, 
If  we  listen  meekly,  rightly. 

We  may  catch  that  soothing  strain. 


For  Thine  arm  Thou  hast  not  shortened, 

Neither  turned  away  Thine  ear, 
O  my  Saviour  !  ever  ready 

The  afflicted's  prayer  to  hear  1 
Show  us  light,  still  surely  resting 

Over  all  Thy  darkest  ways  ; 
Give  us  faith,  still  surely  trusting 

Through  the  sad  and  evil  days. 


And  thus,  while  years  are  fleeting, 

Though  our  joys  with  them  are  gone. 
In  Thy  changeless  love  rejoicing 

We  shall  journey  calmly  on ; 
Till  at  last,  all  sorrow  over, 

Each  our  tale  of  grace  shall  tell, 
In  the  heavenly  chorus  joining  : 

*'  Lord,  Thou  hast  done  all  things  well  I " 


THE  NIGHT  SWEPT  COOL  O'ER  BETHLEHEM'S 
PLAIN. 

T^HE  night  swept  cool  o'er  Bethlehem's  plain, 
^     And  folded  close  the  distant  hill ; 
Alone  the  weary  shepherds  watched, 

While  all  the  drowsy  flocks  were  still ; 
Above,  the  silent  stars  moved  on 

Each  in  its  own  majestic  way  : 
Who  dreamed  the  Son  of  Man  had  come,     . 

And  in  a  Bethlehem  manger  lay  ? 

No  wondrous  sign  had  filled  the  sky. 

When  sank  the  flaming  sun  afar  ; 
No  ominous  cloud  with  darkness  came. 

To  pale  or  hide  the  Eastern  star  ; 
No  tumult  filled  the  town  or  inn, 

Where  travellers  tarried  on  their  way 
Unconscious  that  the  Son  of  God 

So  near  them  in  a  manger  lay. 

Along  the  surging  streets  of  Rome, 

Through  all  the  Empire  of  the  West, 
Nor  sign  nor  sound  the  hour  made  known. 

In  which  all  nations  should  be  blest : 
That  night  imperial  Caesar  slept 

On  regal  couch  his  cares  away. 
And  dreamed  not  that  the  King  of  kings 

At  Bethlehem  in  a  manger  lay. 

Only  where  simple  shepherds  watched, 
In  fields  which  Ruth  of  old  did  glean, 

Was  the  rapt  song  of  angels  heard, 
The  sudden  mystic  glory  seen; 
144 


ZbC   CtO60  145 

And  when  the  heavenly  song  had  ceased, 

The  heavenly  light  had  passed  away, 
The  shepherds  entered  Bethlehem, 

And  found  the  place  where  Jesus  lay. 

No  marvel  that  they  spread  abroad 

The  saying  that  to  them  was  told — 
**  Lo,  He  has  come  I — the  Christ  of  God, 

The  Saviour  promised  them  of  old ; " 
No  marvel  that  with  prayer  and  praise 

Back  to  their  flocks  they  took  their  way  ; 
The  Shepherd  of  their  souls  had  come, — 

At  Bethlehem  in  a  manger  lay  I 


I. 

THE    CROSS. 

'*  Now  there  stood  by  the  Cross  of  Jesus,  His  mother.' 

•THE  strongest  light  casts  deepest  shade. 
The  dearest  love  makes  dreariest  loss, 
And  she  His  birth  so  blessed  had  made. 
Stood  by  Him  dying  on  the  cross. 

Yet  since  not  grief  but  joy  shall  last. 
The  day  and  not  the  night  abide, 

And  all  time's  shadows,  earthward  cast, 
Are  lights  upon  the  "  other  side  "  ; 

Through  what  long  bliss  that  shall  not  fail, 
That  darkest  hour  shall  brighten  on  1 

Better  than  any  angel's  "  Hail !" 
The  memory  of  ''Behold  thy  Son  !" 


146  ^be  Crown 

Blessed  in  thy  lowly  heart  to  store 
The  homage  paid  at  Bethlehem  ; 

But  far  more  blessed  evermore 
Thus  to  have  shared  the  taunts  and  shame. 

Thus  with  thy  pierced  heart  to  have  stood 
'Mid  mocking  crowds  and  owned  Him  thine, 

True  through  a  world's  ingratitude, 
And  owned  in  death  by  lips  Divine, 

II. 

THE   CROWN. 

npHOU  shalt  be  crowned,  O  mother  blest  I 

Our  hearts  behold  thee  crowned  e'en  now  ; 
The  crown  of  motherhood,  earth's  best, 
O'ershadowing  thy  maiden  brow. 

Thou  shalt  be  crowned  I    More  fragrant  bays 
Than  ever  poet's  brows  entwine, 

For  thine  immortal  hymn  of  praise, 
First  Singer  of  the  Church,  are  thine. 

Thou  shalt  be  crowned  I  all  earth  and  heaven 

Thy  coronation  pomp  shall  see  ; 
The  Hand  by  which  thy  crown  is  given 

Shall  be  no  stranger's  hand  to  thee. 

Thou  shalt  be  crowned  I  but  not  a  queen  ; 

A  better  triumph  ends  thy  strife  : 
Heaven^s  bridal  raiment,  white  and  clean. 

The  srictor's  crown  of  fadeless  life. 


prager  ©ut  ot  tbe  Beptba  147 

Thou  shalt  be  crowned  1  but  not  alone 

No  lonely  pomp  shall  weigh  thee  down  ; 

Crowned  with  the  myriads  round  His  throne, 
And  casting  at  His  feet  thy  crown. 


PRAYER  OUT  OF  THE  DEPTHS. 

A  LL  in  weakness,  all  in  sorrow, 

O  my  God  1 1  come  once  more, 
Lifting  up  the  sad  petition 

Thou  hast  often  heard  before — 
In  the  former  days  of  darkness, 
In  the  time  of  need  of  yore. 

For  a  present  help  in  trouble 
Thou  hast  never  ceased  to  be  ; 

Since  at  first  a  weeping  sinner 
Fell  before  Thee  trustingly  ; 

And  Thy  voice  is  ever  sounding  : 
*'  O  ye  weary  !  come  to  Me." 

Lord,  Thou  knowest  all  the  weakness 
Of  the  creatures  Thou  hast  made, 

For  with  mortal  imperfection 

Thou  didst  once  Thy  glory  shade  ; 

Thou  hast  loved  and  Thou  hast  sorrowed 
In  the  veil  of  flesh  arrayed. 

Thus  I  fear  not  to  approach  Thee 
With  my  sorrow  and  my  care  ; 

Hear  my  mourning  supplication, 
Cast  not  out  my  humble  prayer  I 

Lay  not  on  a  greater  burden 
Than  Thy  feeble  child  can  bear  ! 


148  Cramer  ^ut  ot  tbe  Deptbd 

Earth  has  lost  its  best  attractions, 
All  the  brightest  stars  are  gone — 

All  is  clouded  now  and  cheerless, 
Where  so  long  a  glory  shone  : 

Where  I  walked  with  loved  companions 
I  must  wander  now  alone. 


All  is  dark  on  the  horizon, 
Clouds  returning  after  rain  ; 

Faith  is  languid,  Hope  is  weary, 
And  the  questions  rise  again  : 
'  Doth  the  promise  fail  forever  ? 

Hast  Thou  made  all  men  in  vain  ?  * 


O  my  God  I  rebuke  the  tempter, 

Let  not  unbelief  prevail ! 
Pray  for  me.  Thy  feeble  servant, 

That  my  weak  faith  may  not  fail, 
Nor  my  hope  let  go  her  anchor 

When  the  waves  and  storms  assail  I 


All  these  passing  changing  shadows. 
All  these  brief,  bright  joys  below- 
Let  me  grasp  them  not  so  closely. 

Nor  desire  nor  prize  them  so  ! 
Nor  endure  this  bitter  anguish, 
When  Thou  bid'st  me  let  them  go 


O  Redeemer  !  shall  one  perish 
Who  has  looked  to  Thee  for  aid  ? 

Let  me  see  Thee,  let  me  hear  Thee, 
Through  the  gloomy  midnight  shade  ; 

Let  me  hear  Thy  voice  of  comfort  : 
"  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid  ! " 


Salome  149 


For  when  feeling  Thou  art  near  me, 

All  my  loneliness  is  o'er, 
And  the  tempter's  dark  suggestions 

Can  oppress  my  soul  no  more  ; 
I  shall  dread  the  path  no  longer 

Where  Thyself  hast  gone  before. 

And  the  lights  of  earth  all  fading, 

I  can  gaze  on  tearlessly, 
When  the  glory  that  excelleth, 

When  the  light  of  life  I  see  : 
Whom  besides,  in  earth  or  heaven, 

Should  my  heart  desire  but  Thee  ? 


SALOME. 

CHE  knew  not  what  for  them  she  sought 
^    At  His  right  hand  and  left  to  sit ! 
How  great  the  glory,  passing  thought ; 
How  rough  the  path  that  led  to  it. 

They  knew  not  what  of  Him  they  asked, 
But  He  their  deeper  sense  distilled ; 

Gently  the  selfish  wish  unmasked. 
But  all  the  prayer  of  love  fulfilled. 

Pride  sought  to  lift  herself  on  high. 
And  heard  but  of  the  bitter  cup  ; 

Love  would  but  to  her  Lord  be  nigh. 
And  won  her  measure  full — heaped  up 

With  vision  of  His  glory  blessed  : 
Stood  on  the  mountain  by  His  side  ; 

Leaned,  at  the  Supper,  on  His  breast ; 
Stood  close  beneath  Him  when  He  died. 


I50  /ISemories 

One  brother  shared  His  cup  of  woe — 
The  second  of  His  martyr-band  ; 

One,  by  His  glory  smitten  low, 
Rose  at  the  touch  of  His  right  hand. 

Thus,  when  by  earth's  cross  lights  perplexed, 
We  crave  the  thing  that  should  not  be, 

God,  reading  right  our  erring  text, 
Gives  what  we  would  ask,  could  we  see. 


MEMORIES. 


"\X7HEN  fall  the  evening  shadows,  long  and  deep,  acroE 
^^      the  hill: 
When  all  the  air  is  fragrance,  and  all  the  breezes  still ; 


When  the  summer  sun  seems  pausing  above  the  mour 

tain's  brow, 
As  if  he  left  reluctantly  a  scene  so  lovely  now  ; 

Then  I  linger  on  the  pathway,  and  I  fondly  gaze,  an 

long, 
As  if  reading  some  old  story  those  deep  purple  clouc 

among; 

Then  Memory  approaches,  holding  up  her  magic  glasi 
Pointing  to  familiar  figures,  which  across  the  surface  pas 

And  often  do  I  question,  as  I  view  that  phantom  train, 
Whether  most  with  joy  or  sadness  I  behold  them  thi 
again. 


/■Memories  151 

:hey  are  there,  those  scenes  of  beauty,   where  life's 

brightest  hours  have  fled, 
Vnd  I  haste,  with  dear  companions,  the  old  paths  again 

to  tread ; 

But,  suddenly  dissolving,  all  the  loveliness  is  flown, 
^nd  I  find  a  thorny  wilderness,  where  I  must  walk  alone. 

Thou  art  there  so  loved  and  honored,  as  in  each  former 

hour  : 
When  we  read  thine  eye's  deep  meaning,  when  we  heard 

thy  words  of  power  ; 

"When  our  souls  as  willing  captives  have  sought  to  fol- 
low thine. 
Tracing  the  eternal  footsteps  of  Might  and  Love  Divine 

But  o'er  that  cherished  image  falls  a  veil  of  clouds  an&. 

gloom, 
And  beside  a  bier  I  tremble,  or  I  weep  above  a.  tomb. 

And  ever  will  the  question  come,  O  Memory  !  again. 
Whether  in  thy  magic  mirror  there  is  most  of  bliss  or 
pain? 

Would  I  not  wish  the  brightness  were  forever  hid  from 

view. 
If  but  those  hours  of  darkness  could  be  all  forgotten  too  ? 

Then,  weary  and  desponding,  my  spirit  seeks  to  rise 
Away  from  earthly  conflicts,  from  mortal  smiles  or  sighs. 

I  do  not  think  the  blessed  ones  with  Jesus  have  forgot 
The  changing  joys  and  sorrows  which  have  marked  their 
earthly  lot ; 


152  XLbc  TlCliDow  Of  flain 

But  now  on  Memory's  record  their  eyes  can  calmly 

dwell ; 
They  can  see,  what  here  they  trusted — God  hath  done 

all  things  well ; 

And  vain  regrets  and  longings  are  as  old  things  passed 

away ; 
No  shadows  dim  the  sunshine  of  that  bright  eternal  day  1 


THE   WIDOW  OF  NAIN. 

THY  miracles  are  no  state  splendors 
Whose  pomps  Thy  daily  works  excel ; 
The  rock  which  breaks  the  stream,  but  renders 
Its  constant  current  audible. 

The  power  which  startles  us  in  thunders 

Works  ever  silently  in  light ; 
And  mightier  than  these  special  wonders 

The  wonders  daily  in  our  sight. 

Rents  in  the  veils  Thy  works  that  fold, 
They  let  the  inner  light  shine  through  ; 

The  rent  is  new,  the  light  is  old, 
Eternal,  never  ever  new. 

And  therefore,  when  Thy  touch  arrests 

The  bearers  of  that  bier  at  Nain, 
Warm  on  unnumbered  hearts  it  rests, 

Though  yet  their  dead  live  not  again. 

And  Thy  compassionate  "  Weep  not  I  " 
On  this  our  tearful  earth  once  heard. 

For  every  age  with  comfort  fraught, 
Tells  how  Thy  heart  is  ever  stirred. 


patbwai20  of  tbe  f)olB  XanD  1 53 

Nature  repeats  the  tale  each  year, 

She  feels  Thy  touch  through  countless  springs, 
And,  rising  from  her  wintry  bier, 

Throws  off  her  grave-clothes,  lives,  and  sings. 

And  when  Thy  touch  through  earth  shall  thrill 

This  bier  whereon  our  race  is  laid, 
And,  for  the  first  time  standing  still, 

The  long  procession  of  the  dead 

At  Thy  "  Arise  ! "  shall  wake  from  clay. 
Young,  deathless,  freed  from  every  stain  ; 

When  Thy  **  Weep  not  I "  shall  wipe  away 
Tears  that  shall  never  come  again ; 

When  the  strong  chains  of  death  are  burst. 
And  lips  long  dumb  begin  to  speak. 

What  name  will  each  then  utter  first  ? 
What  music  shall  that  silence  break  ? 


PATHWAYS  OF  THE  HOLY  LAND, 

THE  pathways  of  Thy  land  are  little  changed 
Since  Thou  wert  there ; 
The  busy  world  through  other  ways  has  ranged. 
And  left  these  bare. 


The  rocky  path  still  climbs  the  glowing  steep 

Of  Olivet ; 
Though  rains  of  two  millenniums  wear  it  deep, 

Men  tread  it  yet. 


154  patbwai26  of  tbe  Ibolig  XanD 

still  to  the  gardens  o'er  the  brook  it  leads, 

Quiet  and  low ; 
Before  his  sheep  the  shepherd  on  it  treads, 

His  voice  they  know. 


The  \^ild  fig  throws  broad  shadows  o'er  it  still 

As  once  o'er  Thee  ; 
Peasants  go  home  at  evening  up  that  hill 

To  Bethany. 

And,  as  when  gazing  Thou  didst  weep  o'er  them, 

From  height  to  height 
The  white  roofs  of  discrowned  Jerusalem 

Burst  on  our  sight. 


These  ways  were  strewed  with  garments  once,  and 
palm. 

Which  we  tread  thus  ; 
Here,  through  Thy  triumph,  on  Thou  passedst, 
calm. 

On  to  Thy  cross. 


The  waves  have  washed  fresh  sands  upon  the  shore 

Of  Galilee  ; 
But,  chiselled  in  the  hillsides,  evermore 

Thy  paths  we  see. 


Man  has  not  changed  them  in  that  slumbering 
land. 

Nor  time  effaced  ; 
Where  Thy  feet  trod  to  bless,  we  still  may  stand. 
All  can  be  traced. 


Ifor  tbe  flew  Kear  155 

Yet  we  have  traces  of  Thy  footsteps  far 

Truer  than  these ; 
Where'er  the  poor,  and  tried,  and  suffering  are, 

Thy  steps  faith  sees. 


Nor  with  fond  sad  regrets  Thy  steps  we  trace, 

Thou  art  not  dead  ! 
Our  path  is  onward,  till  we  see  Thy  face 

And  hear  Thy  tread. 


And  now,  wherever  meets  Thy  lowliest  band 

In  praise  and  prayer. 
There  is  Thy  presence,  there  Thy  Holy  Land. 

Thou,  Thou  art  there  I 


FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR, 


A  NOTHER  year  I  another  year  I 

Has  borne  its  record  to  the  skies. 
Another  year  I  another  year, 

Untried,  unproved,  before  us  lies  ; 
We  hail  with  smiles  its  dawning  ray — 
How  shall  we  meet  its  final  day  ? 


Another  year,  another  year  I 

Its  squandered  hours  will  ne'er  return. 
Oh  I  many  a  heart  must  quail  with  fear 

O'er  memory's  blotted  page  to  turn. 
No  record  from  that  leaf  will  fade, 
Not  one  erasure  may  be  made. 


156  got  tbe  flew  IBear 

Another  year,  another  year  I 

How  many  a  grief  has  marked  its  flight  I 
Sonie  whom  we  love,  no  more  are  here — 

Translated  to  the  realms  of  light. 
Ah  !  none  can  bless  the  coming  year 
Like  those  no  more  to  greet  us  here. 

Another  year,  another  year  I 

Oh  !  many  a  blessing,  too,  was  given, 

Our  lives  to  deck,  our  hearts  to  cheer, 
And  antedate  the  joys  of  heaven  ; 

But  they,  too,  slumber  in  the  past, 

Where  joys  and  griefs  must  sink  at  last. 

Another  year,  another  year  ! 

Gaze  we  no  longer  on  the  past, 
Nor  let  us  shrink,  with  faithless  fear, 

From  the  dark  shade  the  future  casts. 
The  past,  the  future — what  are  they 
To  those  whose  lives  may  end  to-day  ? 

Another  year,  another  year ! 

Perchance  the  last  of  life  below. 
Who,  ere  its  close.  Death's  call  may  hear 

None  but  the  Lord  of  life  can  know. 
O  to  be  found,  whene'er  that  day 
May  come,  prepared  to  pass  away  I 

Another  year,  another  year 
Help  us  earth's  thorny  path  to  tread  ; 

So  may  each  moment  bring  us  near 
To  Thee,  ere  yet  our  lives  are  fled. 

Saviour  I  we  yield  ourselves  to  Thee, 

For  time  and  for  eternity. 


THE  PERPETUITY  OF  JOY  IN  HEAVEN. 

OERE  brief  is  the  sighing, 
And  brief  is  the  crying, 

For  brief  is  the  life  I 
The  life  there  is  endless, 
The  joy  there  is  endless. 

And  ended  the  strife. 

What  joys  are  in  heaven? 
To  whom  are  they  given  ? 

Ah  !  what  ?  and  to  whom  ? 
The  stars  to  the  earth-born, 
"  Best  robes  "  to  the  sin- worn, 

The  crown  for  the  doom  I 

O  country  the  fairest , 
Our  country  the  dearest. 

We  press  toward  thee  I 
O  Sion  the  golden  I 
Our  eyes  now  are  holden, 

Thy  light  till  we  see  : 

Thy  crystalline  ocean, 
Unvexed  by  commotion, 

Thy  fountain  of  life  ; 
Thy  deep  peace  unspoken, 
Pure,  sinless,  unbroken — 

Thy  peace  beyond  strife : 

Thy  meek  saints  all  glorious. 
Thy  martyrs  victorious, 

Who  suffer  no  more  ; 
Thy  halls  full  of  singing, 
Thy  hymns  ever  ringing 

Along  Thy  safe  shore. 
157 


158  Zbtomb  tbe  3f  loot)  on  jfoot 

Like  the  lily  for  whiteness, 
Like  the  jewel  for  brightness, 

Thy  vestments,  O  Bride  1 
The  Lamb  ever  with  thee. 
The  Bridegroom  is  with  thee — 

With  thee  to  abide  ! 


We  know  not,  we  know  not, 
All  human  words  show  not, 

The  joys  we  may  reach  ; 
The  mansions  preparing. 
The  joys  for  our  sharing, 

The  welcome  for  each. 


O  Sion  the  golden  I 
My  eyes  still  are  holden. 

Thy  light  till  I  see  ; 
And  deep  in  thy  glory. 
Unveiled  then  before  me, 

My  King,  look  on  thee. 


THROUGH  THE  FLOOD   ON  FOOT. 

T^HE  sun  had  sunk  in  the  west, 

For  a  little  while. 
And  the  clouds  which  gathered  to  see  him  die 
Had  caught  his  dying  smile. 

We  sat  in  the  door  of  our  tent. 

In  the  cool  of  the  day, 
Toward  the  quiet  meadow 

Where  misty  shadows  lay. 


^brougb  tbe  ^looD  on  ^oot  159 

The  great  and  terrible  land 

Of  wilderness  and  drought 
Lay  in  the  shadows  behind  us, 

For  the  Lord  had  brought  us  out. 


The  great  and  terrible  River, 
Though  shrouded  still  from  view, 

Lay  in  the  shadows  before  us, 
But  the  Lord  would  bear  us  through, 

Li  the  stillness  and  the  starlight, 

In  sight  of  the  Blessed  Land, 
We  thought  of  the  by-gone  Desert-life, 

And  the  burning,  blinding  sand. 

Many  a  dreary  sunset. 

Many  a  dreary  dawn, 
We  had  watched  upon  those  desert  hills 

As  we  pressed  slowly  on. 

Yet  sweet  had  been  the  silent  dews 
Which  from  God's  presence  fell, 

And  the  still  hours  of  resting 
By  Palm-tree  and  by  Well ; 

Till  we  pitched  our  Tent  at  last. 

The  Desert  done. 
Where  we  saw  the  hills  of  the  Holy  Land 

Gleam  in  our  sinking  sun. 

And  we  sat  in  the  door  of  our  Tent, 

In  the  cool  of  the  day. 
Toward  the  quiet  meadow 

Where  misty  shadows  lay : 


i6o  Xlbtongb  tbe  jf  looD  on  jfoot 

We  were  talking  about  the  King, 

And  our  elder  Brother, 
As  we  were  used  often  to  speak 

One  to  another. 


The  Lord  standing  quietly  by. 

In  the  shadows  dim. 
Smiling  perhaps,  in  the  dark,  to  hear 

Our  sweet,  sweet  talk  of  Him. 


**  I  think  in  a  little  while," 

I  said  at  length, 
"  We  shall  see  His  face  in  the  city 

Of  everlasting  strength  ; 

**  And  sit  down  under  the  shadow 
Of  His  smile, 
With  great  delight  and  thanksgiving, 
To  rest  awhile." 

*•  But  the  River — the  awful  River  ! 
In  the  dying  light," 
And  even  as  he  spoke,  the  murmur 
Of  a  river  rose  on  the  night ! 

And  One  came  up  through  the  meadow, 

Where  the  mists  lay  dim, 
Till  He  stood  by  my  friend  in  the  starlight. 

And  spake  to  him  : 

"  I  have  come  to  call  thee  Home," 

Said  our  veiled  Guest ; 
"  The  terrible  journey  of  life  is  done, 

I  will  take  thee  into  Rest. 


^bcougb  tbe  moo^  on  ^oot  i6i 

"Arise  I  thou  shall  come  to  the  Palace, 
To  rest  thee  forever  "; 
And  He  pointed  across  the  dark  meadow, 
And  down  to  the  River. 

And  my  friend  rose  up  in  the  shadows, 
And  turned  to  me — 
'*  Be  of  good  cheer,"  I  said  faintly, 
*'  For  He  calleth  thee." 


For  I  knew  by  His  loving  voice. 

His  kingly  word, 
The  veiled  Guest  in  the  starlight  dim 

Was  Christ,  the  Lord  ! 

So  we  three  went  slowly  down 

To  the  River-side, 
Till  we  stood  in  the  heavy  shadows 

By  the  black,  wild  tide. 

I  could  hear  that  the  Lord  was  speaking 

Deep  words  of  grace, 
I  could  see  their  blessed  reflection 

On  my  friend's  pale  face. 

The  strong  and  desolate  tide 

Was  hurrying  wildly  past. 
And  he  turned  to  take  my  hand  once  more, 

And  say  farewell,  at  last. 


**  Farewell— I  can  not  fear, 
Oh  I  seest  thou  His  grace  ?  " 
And  even  as  he  spoke,  he  turned 

Again  to  the  Master's  Face. 
II 


i62  Zbtomb  tbe  ff  looD  on  ^oot 

So  they  two  went  closer  down 

To  the  River-side, 
And  stood  in  the  heavy  shadows 

By  the  black,  wild  tide. 

But  when  the  feet  of  the  Lord 
Were  come  to  the  waters  dim, 

They  rose  to  stand,  on  either  hand, 
And  left  a  path  for  Him  ; 

So  they  two  passed  over  swiftly 

Toward  the  Goal, 
But  the  wistful,  longing  gaze 

Of  the  passing  soul 

Grew  only  more  rapt  and  joyful 
As  he  clasped  the  Master's  hand  ; 

I  think,  or  ever  he  was  aware 
They  were  come  to  the  Holy  Land. 

Now  I  sit  alone  in  the  door  of  my  Tent, 

In  the  cool  of  the  day. 
Toward  the  quiet  meadow 

Where  misty  shadows  play. 

The  great  and  terrible  Land 
Of  wilderness  and  drought. 

Lies  in  the  shadows  behind  me, 
For  the  Lord  has  brought  me  out ; 

The  great  and  terrible  River, 
I  stood  that  night  to  view, 

Lies  in  the  shadows  before  me, 

But  the  Lord  will  bear  me  through. 


THE  LONG  OOOD-NIGHT, 

T    JOURNEY  forth  rejoicing, 

From  this  dark  vale  of  tears, 
To  heavenly  joy  and  freedom, 

From  earthly  bonds  and  fears  ; 
Where  Christ  our  Lord  shall  gather 

All  His  redeemed  again, 
His  kingdom  to  inherit. 

Good-night,  till  then  I 

Gro  to  thy  quiet  resting, 

Poor  tenement  of  clay  I 
From  all  thy  pain  and  weakness 

I  gladly  haste  away  ; 
But  still  in  faith  confiding 

To  find  thee  yet  again, 
All  glorious  and  immortal. 

Good-night,  till  then! 


Why  thus  so  sadly  weeping. 
Beloved  ones  of  my  heart  ? 

The  Lord  is  good  and  gracious, 
Though  now  He  bids  us  part. 

Oft  have  we  met  in  gladness, 
And  we  shall  meet  again. 

All  sorrow  left  behind  us. 

Good-night  till  then  1 

I  go  to  see  His  glory, 

Whom  we  have  loved  below  : 
I  go,  the  blessed  angels. 

The  holy  saints  to  know. 
163 


164  footsteps  on  tbe  ©tber  SiDc 

Our  lovely  ones  departed, 

I  go  to  find  again, 
And  wait  for  you  to  join  us. 

Good-night,  till  then  I 

I  hear  the  Saviour  calling — 
The  joyful  hour  has  come  : 

The  angel  guards  are  ready 
To  guide  me  to  our  home, 

Where  Christ  our  Lord  shall  gather 
All  His  redeemed  again, 

His  kingdom  to  inherit. 

Good -night,  till  then  I 


FOOTSTEPS  ON  THE  OTHER  SIDE. 


C ITTING  in  my  humble  doorway, 

*^    Gazing  out  into  the  night. 

Listening  to  the  stormy  tumult 
With  a  kind  of  sad  delight — 

Wait  I  for  the  loved  who  comes  not, 
One  whose  step  I  long  to  hear  ; 

One  who,  though  he  lingers  from  me, 
Still  is  dearest  of  the  dear. 

Soft  I  he  comes — now  heart,  be  quick- 
Leaping  in  triumphant  pride  I 

Oh  I  it  is  a  stranger  footstep. 
Gone  by  on  the  other  side. 


All  the  night  seems  filled  with  weeping  ; 

Winds  are  wailing  mournfully  ; 
And  the  rain-tears  together 

Journey  to  the  restless  sea. 


6one  fbomc  165 


I  can  fancy,  sea,  your  murmur, 
As  they  with  your  waters  flow, 

Like  the  griefs  of  single  beings 
Making  up  a  nation's  woe  ! 

Branches,  bid  your  guests  be  silent ; 

Hush  a  moment,  fretful  rain  ; 
Breeze,  stop  sighing — let  me  listen, 

God  grant  not  again  in  vain  I 
In  my  cheek  the  blood  is  rosy, 

Like  the  blushes  of  a  bride. 
Joy  I  Alas  !  a  stranger  footstep 

Goes  by  on  the  other  side. 

Ah  !  how  many  wait  forever 

For  the  steps  that  do  not  come  I 
Wait  until  the  pityng  angels 

Bear  them  to  a  peaceful  home  1 
Many  in  the  still  of  midnight 

In  the  streets  have  lain  and  died, 
While  the  sound  of  human  footsteps 

Went  by  on  the  other  side. 


GONE  HOME. 

r^  ONE  home !  Gone  home  1  She  lingers  here 
^"^        no  longer 

A  restless  pilgrim,  walking  painfully. 
With  homesick  longing,  daily  growing  stronger, 

And  yearning  visions  of  the  joys  to  be. 

Gone  home  I  Gone  home  I    Her  earnest,  active 
spirit, 

Her  very  playfulness,  her  heart  of  love  I 
The  heavenly  mansion  now  she  doth  inherit, 

Which  Christ  made  ready  ere  she  went  above. 


i66  ffuneral  fb^mn 


Gone  home  !  Gone  home  I  The  door  through 
which  she  vanished 

Closed  with  a  jar,  and  left  us  here  alone  ; 
We  stand  without,  in  tears,  forlorn  and  banished, 

Longing  to  follow  where  one  loved  has  gone. 

Gone  home  !    Gone  home  I    Oh !  shall  we  ever 
reach  her, 

See  her  again,  and  know  her  for  our  own  ? 
Will  she  conduct  us  to  the  heavenly  Teacher, 

And  bow  beside  us,  low  before  His  throne  ? 

Gone  home  I    Gone  home  !    O  human-hearted 
Saviour  ! 

Give  us  a  balm  to  soothe  our  heavy  woe  ; 
And  if  Thou  wilt,  in  tender,  pitying  favor, 

Hasten  the  time  when  we  may  rise  and  go  I 


FUNERAL  HYMN. 


r^OME  forth  I  come  on,  with  solemn  song ! 

The  road  is  short,  the  rest  is  long ; 
The  Lord  brought  here,  He  calls  away  ; 

Make  no  delay. 
This  home  was  for  a  passing  day. 


Here  in  an  inn  a  stranger  dwelt, 
Here  joy  and  grief  by  turns  he  felt ; 
Poor  dweUing,  now  we  close  thy  door  I 

Thy  task  is  o'er, 
The  sojourner  returns  no  more. 


jfuneral  Dijmn  167 

Now  of  a  lasting  home  possessed, 
He  goes  to  seek  a  deeper  rest. 
Good-night  I  the  day  was  sultry  here 

In  toil  and  fear  ; 
Good-night  I  the  night  is  cool  and  clear. 

Chime  on,  ye  bells  !  again  begin. 
And  ring  the  Sabbath  morning  in  ; 
The  laborer's  weekday  work  is  done  ; 

The  rest  begun, 
Which  Christ  hath  for  His  people  won. 

Now  ope  to  us  the  gates  of  peace  I 
Here  let  the  pilgrim's  journey  cease  ; 
Ye  quiet  slumberers,  make  room 

In  your  still  home 
For  the  new  stranger  who  has  come  I 

How  many  graves  around  us  lie  ! 
How  many  homes  are  in  the  sky  I 
Yes,  for  each  saint  doth  Christ  prepare 

A  place  with  care  ; 
Thy  home  is  waiting,  brother,  there. 

Jesus,  Thou  reignest,  Lord,  alone  ; 
Thou  wilt  return  and  claim  Thine  own  ;' 
Come  quickly.  Lord  !  return  again  ! 

Amen !  Amen  ! 
Thine,  seal  us  ever,  now  and  then  1 


WE  ARE  THE  LORD'S. 

"1X7 E  are  the  Lord's.     His,  earthly  life  and  spirit  1 

"      We  are  the  Lord's,  who  once  for  all  men  died  I 
We  are  the  Lord's,  and  shall  all  things  inherit  I 
We  are  the  Lord's  who  wins  us  all  beside  I 

We  are  the  Lord's  !    So  in  most  holy  living, 

Glad  let  us,  body,  soul,  be  His  alone  ; 
And  heart  and  mouth,  and  act  join,  witness  giving 

That  it  is  surely  true  :  we  are  His  own  ! 

We  are  the  Lord's  !    So  in  the  dark  vale  gleaming. 
One  star  dispels  our  fear,  and  keeping  ward. 

Doth  light  our  way  with  sweet  unchangef  ul  beaming  : 
It  is  the  precious  Word.     We  're  thine,  O  Lord  ! 

We  are  the  Lord's  !    So  will  He  on  the  morrow 
Watch  our  last  pang,  when  other  help  rewards  ; 

No  pain,  and  Death  brings  not  a  touch  of  sorrow  ; 
This  Word  's  forever  true  :  we  are  the  Lord's. 


EUTHANASY. 

"XA/E  need  no  change  of  sphere 

To.  view  the  heavenly  sights,  or  hear 
The  songs  which  angels  sing.    The  hand 
Which  gently  pressed  the  sightless  orbs  ere  while, 
Giving  them  light,  a  world  of  beauty,  and  the  friendly 
smile, 
Can  cause  our  eyes  to  see  the  better  land. 
i68 


Butbanasi^  169 

We  need  no  wings 

To  soar  aloft  to  realms  of  higher  things  ; 
r3ut  only  feet  which  walk  the  paths  of  peace, 

Guided  by  Him  whose  voice 

Greets  every  ear,  makes  every  heart  rejoice. 
Saying  :  Arise,  and  walk  where  sorrows  cease. 

Visiting  spirits  are  near  ; 

They  are  not  wholly  silent,  but  we  can  not  hear 
Nor  understand  their  speech. 

Our  Saviour  caught  His  Father's  word, 

And  men  of  old,  dreaming  and  walking,  heard 
The  breathings  of  a  world  we  can  not  reach. 

They  mounted  to  the  skies. 

And  read  deep  mysteries  ; 
While  yet  on  earth,  they  placed  a  ladder  there, 

Like  Jacob's,  that  each  round  should  lead, 

By  prayer  outspoken  in  a  word  or  deed, 
The  soul  to  heights  of  clearer,  purer  air. 

They  saw  no  messenger  of  gloom 

In  him  whom  we  call  Death,  nor  met  their  doom 
As  prisoner  his  sentence  :  but  naturally  as  bud  unfolds 
to  flower. 

As  child  to  man,  so  man  to  angel — 

They  recognizing  Death  the  glad  evangel. 
Leading  to  higher  scenes  of  life  and  power. 


THE  ELEVENTH  HOUR. 

FAINT  and  worn  and  aged 
One  stands  knocking  at  a  gate, 
Though  no  light  shines  in  the  casement, 

Knocking  though  so  late. 
It  has  struck  eleven 
In  the  courts  of  heaven. 
Yet  he  still  doth  knock  and  wait. 

While  no  answer  cometh 

From  the  heavenly  hill, 
Blessed  angels  wonder 

At  his  earnest  will. 
Hope  and  fear  but  quicken 
While  the  shadows  thicken  ; 

He  is  knocking,  knocking  still. 

Grim  the  gate  unopened 

Stands  with  bar  and  lock  : 
Yet  within  the  unseen  Porter 

Hearkens  to  the  knock. 
Doing  and  undoing, 
Faint  and  yet  pursuing. 

This  man's  feet  are  on  the  Rock. 

With  a  cry  unceasing, 

Knocketh,  prayeth  he : 
"  Lord,  have  mercy  on  me 

When  I  cry  to  Thee.  " 
With  a  knock  unceasing, 
And  a  cry  increasing  : 

"  O  my  Lord  I  remember  me.  " 
170 


'*  3BtinQinQ  ©ur  Sbeavcs  witb  lae"        171 

Still  the  Porter  standeth, 

Love-constrained  He  standeth  near, 
While  the  cry  increaseth 

Of  that  love  and  fear  : 
"  Jesus,  look  upon  me — 
Christ,  hast  Thou  foregone  me  ? — 

If  I  must,  I  perish  here. " 


Faint  the  knocking  ceases, 

Faint  the  cry  and  call ; 
Is  he  lost  indeed  forever, 

Shut  without  the  wall  ? 
Mighty  Arms  surround  him, 
Arms  that  sought  and  found  him, 

Held,  withheld,  and  bore  through  all. 


Oh,  celestial  mansion  I 

Open  wide  the  door  ; 
Crown  and  robes  of  whiteness, 

Stone  inscribed  before. 
Flocking  angels  bear  them  ; 
Stretch  thy  hand  and  wear  them  ; 

Sit  thou  down  for  evermore. 


'BRINGING  OUR  SHEAVES  WITH  US.' 


THE  time  for  toil  is  past,  and  night  has  come. 
The  last  and  saddest  of  the  harvest  eves  ; 
Worn  out  with  labor  long  and  wearisome, 
Drooping  and  faint,  the  reapers  hasten  home. 
Each  laden  with  his  sheaves. 


172      '*  JBrinatns  ©ur  Sbeavce  wttb  Tils'' 

Last  of  the  laborers,  Thy  feet  I  gain, 

Lord  of  the  harvest !  and  my  spirit  grieves 
That  I  am  burdened,  not  so  much  with  grain 
As  with  a  heaviness  of  heart  and  brain. 
Master,  behold  my  sheaves  ! 

Few,  light,  and  worthless — yet  their  trifling  weight 

Through  all  my  frame  aweary  aching  leaves  ; 
For  long  I  struggled  with  my  hapless  fate, 
And  staid  and  toiled  till  it  was  dark  and  late — 
Yet  these  are  all  my  sheaves  ! 

Full  well  I  know  I  have  more  tares  than  wheat — 
Brambles  and  flowers,  dry  stalks,  and  withered 
leaves  ; 
"Wherefore  I  blush  and  weep,  as  at  Thy  feet 
I  kneel  down  reverently,  and  repeat, 
*'  Master,  behold  my  sheaves  ! " 

I  know  these  blossoms,  clustering  heavily 

With  evening  dew  upon  their  folded  leaves, 
Can  claim  no  value  nor  utility — 
Therefore  shall  f ragrancy  and  beauty  be 
The  glory  of  my  sheaves. 

So  do  I  gather  strength  and  hope  anew  ; 

For  well  I  know  Thy  patient  love  perceives 
Not  what  I  did,  but  what  I  strove  to  do. 
And  though  the  full,  ripe  ears  be  sadly  few, 

Thou  wilt  accept  my  sheaves. 


THE  MEETING  PLACE, 


nPHE  daylight  has  faded  over  the  sea, 
*     The  shadows  are  gathering  heavily, 

The  waters  are  moaning  drearily, 
And  there  is  no  haven  in  sight  for  me — 

Only  a  black,  wild,  angry  haven  ; 
Only  a  rolling,  moaning  sea  ; 

And  a  small,  weak  bark  by  the  tempest  driven 
Hither  and  thither  helplessly. 
For  I  am  alone  on  this  moaning  sea  ; 
Alone,  alone,  on  the  wide,  wild  seal 
Only  God  stands  in  the  dark  by  me. 
But  His  silence  is  worse  to  bear  than  the  moan 

Of  the  dreary  waters  that  will  not  stay; 
And  I  am  alone — ay,  worse  than  alone, 

For  God  stands  by,  and  has  nothing  to  say  ! 
And  Death  is  creeping  over  to  me — 
Creeping  across  the  drear  black  sea — 
Creeping  into  the  boat  with  me  I 
And  he  will  sink  the  small,  weak  bark. 
And  I  shall  float  out  in  the  dreary  dark. 

Dead,  dead,  on  the  wide,  wild  sea  ; 

A  dead  face  up  to  the  cruel  sky- 
Dead  eyes  that  had  wearied  sore  for  the  light, 

A  dead  hand  floating  helplessly, 
Tired  with  hard  rowing  through  all  the  night; 

This  is  what  Thou  shalt  see,  O  God  I 

From  Thy  warm  bright  home  beyond  the  cloud 

Thou  denied'st  me  light  though  it  overflowed, 
And  there  was  not  room  for  it  all  in  heaven — 

Thou  denied'st  one  ray  unto  me,  O  God  I 
By  the  windy  storm  and  tempest  driven ; 
173 


174  ^^^  OscctirxQ  place 

Thou  shalt  look  on  my  lost  face,  God,  and  see 
What  it  was  to  die  in  the  dark  for  me  I 
But  I  cannot  reach  Him  with  this  wild  cry — 
I  cannot  reach  Him  with  this  poor  hand  ; 
Peaceful  He  dwells  in  the  peaceful  land, 
And  the  smile  on  His  face  is  untouched  by  me — 
Only  another  Eternity  lost. 
Only  another  poor  soul  gone  down, 
Far  out  at  sea  while  He  smileth  not  I 
The  songs  of  Heaven  are  loud  and  sweet. 
And  thrill  His  heart  with  joy  ;  it  is  meet 
That  He  should  not  catch  the  far-off  moan 
Of  another  soul  undone — undone  ! 
Here  we  part,  O  God  I 
Thou  to  Thy  life  and  light. 
To  the  home  where  Thy  dear  ones  gather  to 
Thee, 
I  to  my  Death  and  Night, 
A  lost  thing,  with  nothing  to  do  with  Thee  ; 
Drifting  drearily  out  to  sea. 
Thou  hast  shut  from  Thee  my  feeble  prayer ; 
Let  us  part,  O  God  I 


II. 

Through  the  darkness  over  the  sea 

A  voice  came  calling — calling  to  me — 

A  gentle  voice  through  the  angry  night. 

And  I  thought,  "  Some  one  else  is  out  to-night. 

Out,  out,  on  the  wide,  wild  sea  ; 

Can  it  be  any  one  seeking  me  ?  " 
So  I  answered  as  well  as  I  could  from  my  place. 
Though  the  wind  and  rain  were  beating  my  face, 

And  through  the  darkness,  over  the  sea, 

Still  the  voice  came  calling,  calling  to  me  ; 
Nearer  and  nearer  it  came  to  me, 
And  one  came  into  the  boat  from  the  sea. 


Comet  175 

The  wind  fell  low  round  my  little  bark 

As  a  wounded  hand  touched  mine  in  the  dark, 

And  a  weary  head  on  my  breast  was  laid  ; 
And  a  trembling  voice,  as  of  one  whom  pain 
Had  done  to  death,  in  a  whisper  said, 
"  I  had  nowhere  else  to  lay  my  head." 


ni. 

And  it  was  thus  that  He  came  to  me  ; 

I  had  spoken  against  Him  bitterly, 

As  of  one  who  sat  smiling  on  in  heaven — 

Smiling  and  resting  peacefully — 
While  I  was  perishing  tempest-driven  ; 

But  it  was  thus  that  He  came  to  me, 
Through  the  deep  waters  struggling  on, 
Wherein  standing  or  foothold  found  He  none  ; 
The  wild  wind  beating  about  His  face, 
Fainting  and  sinking  in  that  dark  place  ; 
He  had  been  weary  and  far  from  home, 
Struggling,  forsaken,  alone — alone  I 

So  out  in  the  night  on  the  wide,  wild  sea, 
When  the  wind  was  beating  drearily, 
And  the  waters  were  moaning  wearily, 

I  met  with  Him  who  had  died  for  me. 


COME  ! 

/^H,  word,  of  words  the  sweetest  I 
^^    Oh,  word,  in  which  there  lie 
All  promise,  all  fulfilment. 
And  end  of  mystery  ! 


176  Come ! 

Sorrowing  or  rejoicing, 
With  doubt  or  terror  nigh, 

I  hear  the  "  Come  I "  of  Jesus, 
And  to  His  cross  I  fly, 

Sometimes  so  far  I  've  wandered, 

So  lost  I  seem  to  be, 
That  faintly,  like  an  echo, 

I  hear  the  *'  Come  to  Me.  " 
''  Where  art  Thou,  O  Beloved  ?  " 

Bewildered,  sad,  I  cry  ; 
Then  following  the  sweet  summons. 

Till  at  His  feet  I  lie. 

Oh,  soul,  why  shouldst  thou  wander 

From  such  a  loving  Friend  ? 
Cling  closer — closer  to  Him, 

Stay  with  Him  to  the  end. 
Alas  I  I  am  so  helpless, 

So  very  full  of  sin, 
Forever  I  am  wandering 

And  coming  back  again. 

Oh,  each  time  draw  me  nearer, 

That  soon  the  ' '  Come  !  "  may  be 
Naught  but  a  gentle  whisper 

To  one  close,  close  to  Thee  ; 
Then,  over  sea  or  mountain, 

Far  from  or  near  my  home, 
I  '11  take  Thy  hand  and  follow. 

At  that  sweet  whispered  "  Come  !  " 


INTO  HIS  HANDS. 

LUTHER'S  HYMN. 

/^OMMIT  thou  all  thy  griefs 

And  ways  into  His  hands  ; 
To  His  sure  truth  and  tender  love 

Who  earth  and  heaven  commands  ; 
Who  points  the  clouds  their  course  ; 

When  w^ind  and  seas  obey, 
He  shall  direct  thy  v^^andering  feet, 

He  shall  prepare  thy  way. 


Put  then  thy  trust  in  God  ; 

In  duty's  path  go  on  ; 
Fix  on  His  word  thy  steadfast  eye, 

So  shall  thy  work  be  done. 
No  profit  canst  thou  gain 

By  self-consuming  care  ; 
To  him  commend  thy  cause,  His  ear 

Attends  the  softest  prayer. 


Give  to  the  winds  thy  fears, 

Hope,  and  be  undismayed  ; 
God  hears  thy  sighs,  and  counts  thy  tears — 

God  shall  lift  up  thy  head. 
Through  waves  and  clouds  and  storm, 

He  gently  cleaves  the  way  ; 
Wait,  then.  His  time  ;  the  darkest  niglit 

Shall  end  in  brightest  day. 
177 


178  **asovtM^  IRIlounDeD" 

still  heavy  is  thy  heart  ? 

Still  sinks  thy  spirit  down  ? 
Cast  off  the  weight,  let  fear  depart, 

And  every  care  be  gone. 
What  though  thou  rulest  not. 

Yet  earth  and  heaven  and  hell 
Proclaim  God  sitteth  on  the  throne, 

And  doeth  all  things  well. 

Leave  to  His  sovereign  sway 

To  choose  and  to  command  ; 
So  shalt  thou,  wondering,  own  His  way. 

How  wise,  how  strong  His  hand  ; 
Far,  far  above  thy  thoughts 

His  counsel  shall  appear 
When  fitly  he  the  work  hath  wrought. 

That  caused  thy  needless  fear. 

Thou  seest  our  weakness.  Lord  I 

Our  hearts  are  known  to  Thee  ; 
Oh,  lift  then  up  the  sinking  heart, 

Confirm  the  feeble  knee  I 
Let  us  in  life,  in  death, 

Thy  steadfast  truth  declare. 
And  publish  with  our  latest  breath 

Thy  love  and  guardian  care. 


''MORTALLY  WOUNDED,'' 

I    LAY  me  down  to  sleep. 

With  little  thought  or  care 
Whether  my  waking  find 
Me  here — or  there! 


**jflBortalli2  TraiounDeJ)*'  179 

A  bowing,  burdened  head, 

Only  too  glad  to  rest, 
Unquestioning,  upon 

A  loving  breast. 

My  good  right  hand  forgets 

Her  cunning  now  ; 
To  march  the  weary  march 

I  know  not  how. 


I  am  not  eager,  bold, 

Nor  strong — all  that  is  past  I 
I  am  willing  not  to  dOj 

At  last,  at  last  t 

My  half-day's  work  is  done, 
And  this  is  all  my  part : 

I  give  a  patient  God 
My  patient  heart ; 

And  grasp  His  banner  still. 
Though  all  its  blue  be  dim ; 

These  stripes,  no  less  than  stars, 
Lead  after  Him. 

Weak,  weary  and  uncrowned, 
I  yet  to  hear  am  strong  ; 

Content  not  even  to  cry, 
*'  How  long  I  How  long  1 " 


WITH  FAITH  AND  PRAYER. 

"1X7 ITH  faith  and  prayer, 
'         Dear  Lord,  the  burden  Thou  hast  sent 
I  gladly  bear, 
For  His  dear  sake  who  went. 
With  mortal  anguish  rent, 

Up  Pilate's  stair, 
And  from  his  judgment-hall 
Bearing  His  cross  in  weakness  for  us  all. 

The  faith  how  small, 
O  Lord,  with  which  I  tread  the  way  ; 

Give,  at  my  call. 
Faith  that,  from  day  to  day, 
Is  fed  by  Christ  alway. 

I  shall  not  fall ; 
But  prove  the  promise  blest, 
*'  We  which  believe  do  enter  into  rest. " 

The  prayer  how  weak, 

0  Lord,  that  lifts  my  heart  to  Thee. 

But  this  I  seek — 
This  one  thing  give  to  me — 
Help  my  infirmity ; 

Within  me  speak, 
And  by  the  Spirit  taught 

1  shall  know  what  to  pray  for  as  I  ought. 

From  pain  and  care, 
O  Lord,  I  seek  not  to  be  free, 

But  this  my  prayer — 
Open  my  eyes  to  see 
1 80 


4 


TWlttb  jfaltb  anD  prater  i8i 

That  Thou  art  leading  me  ; 

Then  I  can  bear 
To  walk  in  darkness  still, 
Walking  with  Thee,  submissive  to  Thy  wilL 


Clouds  come  and  go, 
But,  Lord,  clouds  only  make  more  bright 

The  afterglow  1 
After  the  darkest  night 
Will  come  the  morning  light. 

And  well  I  know 
The  morn  itself  may  hide 
Its  face,  but  light  shall  be  at  eventide. 

Home  is  more  near, 
O  Lord,  by  every  passing  day  ; 

Home  is  more  dear 
By  every  prayer  I  pray — 
By  every  footstep  of  the  way 

That  brings  me  there. 
Where  Thou  art,  let  me  be. 
For  where  Thou  art  is  Home  and  Heaven  to  me. 


"  A  little  while  !  " 
Dear  Lord,  the  precious  words  are  Thine  I 

A  little  while  I 
The  blessed  hope  is  mine, 
Till  on  these  eyes  shall  shine 

Thy  radiant  smile. 
And  Thine  own  hand  of  grace 
Shall  wipe  all  tears  from  my  uplifted  face. 


*'TH1S   I   DID    FOR    THEE— WHAT   DOEST 
THOU   FOR    MEf" 


I 


GAVE  My  life  for  thee, 
My  precious  blood  I  shed, 
That  thou  might'st  ransomed  be, 

And  quickened  from  the  dead. 
I  gave  My  life  for  thee  ; 
What  hast  thou  given  for  Me  ? 


I  spent  long  years  for  thee 
In  weariness  and  woe, 

That  one  eternity 
Of  joy  thou  mightest  know, 

I  spent  long  years  for  thee; 

Hast  thou  spent  one  for  Me  ? 


My  Father's  house  of  light, 
My  rainbow-circled  throne, 

I  left  for  earthly  night, 

For  wanderings  sad  and  lone; 

I  left  it  all  for  thee  ; 

Hast  thou  left  aught  for  Me  ? 


I  suffered  much  for  thee, 
More  than  thy  tongue  can  tell, 

Of  bitterest  agony. 
To  rescue  thee  from  hell ; 

I  suffered  much  for  thee  ; 

What  dost  thou  bear  for  Me? 
182 


ConeiDet  f)im  183 

And  I  have  brought  to  thee, 

Down  from  My  home  above, 
Salvation  full  and  free, 

My  pardon  and  My  love  ; 
Great  gifts  I  brought  to  thee  ; 
What  hast  thou  brought  to  Me  ? 

O  let  thy  life  be  given, 

Thy  years  for  Me  be  spent, 
World-fetters  all  be  riven, 

And  joy  with  suffering  blent ; 
Give  thou  thyself  to  Me, 
And  I  will  welcome  thee  I 

—Motto  placed  under  a  print  of  Christ  in  the 
study  o/a  German  divine. 


CONSIDER    HIM, 

I. 

T^HAT  Holy  One, 

Who  came  to  earth  for  thee — 
Oh,  strangest  thing  beneath  the  sun 
That  He  by  any  mortal  one 
Forgotten  e'er  should  be  I 

n. 

The  Son  of  God, 

Who  pity  had  on  thee. 
Who  turned  aside  the  smiting  rod, 
And  all  alone  the  garden  trod, 

Forgotten  shall  he  be  ? 


i84  t)e  ir0  Os^  SbcpberD 


The  Blessed  Lord, 

Who  came  to  die  for  thee, 
Whom  Jew  and  Gentile  then  abhorred. 
While  heavenly  hosts  His  name  adored, 

Forgotten  can  he  be  ? 

IV. 

That  Brother,  Friend, 

Who  daily  waits  on  thee, 
Who  every  want  doth  comprehend 
With  love  divine  that  has  no  end, 

Forgotten  can  he  be  ? 

V. 

Oh,  Patient  One, 

Thou  speakest  thus  to  me  : 
"Oh,  strangest  thing  beneath  the  sun 
That  thou,  for  whom  so  much  is  done, 

Shouldst  oft  forgetful  be." 

VI. 

My  Lord,  I  know 

What  truth  Thou  say'st  to  me  ; 
Forgive  my  sin,  on  me  bestow 
Such  grace  as  hence  to  all  will  show 

I  do  consider  Thee. 


HE  IS  MY  SHEPHERD, 

OE  is  my  Shepherd,  I  His  sheep  ; 
'^  ^     I  do  not  want  to  know 
Whether  the  way  be  soft  or  steep 
By  which  I  am  to  go, 


tic  Hb  Ab  Sbepberd  185 

If  green  and  smooth  the  mountains  be, 

I  need  not  ask  for  more  ; 
If  stony,  He  will  carry  me, 

As  He  has  done  before. 


He  is  my  Shepherd,  I  His  sheep ; 

We  travel  onward  still, 
By  pools  where  water-lilies  sleep, 

By  many  a  quiet  hill ; 
I  feed  in  many  a  grassy  dell, 

I  drink  the  waters  clear  ; 
The  gracious  Voice  I  know  so  well 

Is  music  to  my  ear. 

He  is  my  Shepherd,  I  His  sheep  ; 

I  wandered  once,  I  know  ; 
I  heard  Him  on  the  mountains  weep, 

That  I  should  leave  Him  so. 
I  trembled,  as  I  faintly  guessed 

A  sorrow  so  divine, 
For  as  He  clasped  me  to  His  breast 

The  blood  gushed  forth  on  mine. 

He  is  my  Shepherd,  I  His  sheep. 

And  what  if  death  be  near  ? 
The  shadows  up  the  valley  creep. 

And  yet  I  do  not  fear  ; 
As  closer  to  His  side  I  cling, 

I  feel  the  way  so  true 
With  which  His  love  was  pledged  to  bring, 

And  safe  has  brought,  me  through. 

He  is  my  Shepherd,  I  His  sheep  ; 

We  journey  on  and  on  ; 
At  last  a  smile  upon  His  lips 

Shall  tell  me  all  is  won. 


i86  malkittd  in  Wbite 

The  table  that  He  spreads  for  me 

My  foes  shall  all  behold, 
And  in  these  trembling  fingers  see 

His  cup  of  royal  gold. 

The  cup  He  put  so  gently  by, 

When  death  was  drawing  near, 
He  freely  fills  for  such  as  I, 

And  tells  me  not  to  fear. 
And  for  those  funeral  odors  shed 

Upon  His  dying  brow, 
He  pours  the  oil  of  joy  instead 

On  each  disciple  now. 

Shepherd  !  Good  Shepherd  I  turn  and  see  I 

I  follow  far  behind, 
The  voice  of  mercy  calling  me 

Comes  borne  on  every  wind. 
Set  wide  Thy  Father's  open  door, 

That  I  the  light  may  see. 
And  in  His  house  f orevermore 

At  last  abide  with  Thee. 


WALKING  IN  WHITE. 

r\  LORD  my  God,  't  is  early  dawn, 

^^    And  I  would  walk  with  Thee  to-day. 

Clothe  me  in  garments  white  and  clean, 

All  bright  and  beautiful,  I  pray  : 
Grant  I  may  walk  with  greatest  care 

So  I  may  keep  their  lustre  bright ; 
To  day  my  Father,  hear  my  prayer, 

And  let  me  walk  with  Thee  in  white. 


malf^fng  in  xmbite  187 

The  road  was  thorny  yesterday, 

Because  I  walked  so  far  from  Thee  ; 
Yet  oft  I  heard  Thee  kindly  say, 

**  Come  nearer,  child  ;  come  near  to  me  !  • 
With  garments  soiled  on  yestereve, 

I  grieved  to  view  the  painful  sight ; 
To-day,  my  Father,  oh,  reprieve. 

And  let  me  walk  with  Thee  in  white. 

Now  may  I  plunge  within  the  tide — 

That  fount  for  all  our  grief  and  woe, 
Once  opened  in  my  Saviour's  side  ; 

'  T  will  make  my  garments  white  as  snow, 
With  hands  and  feet,  with  head  and  heart. 

All  clean  and  pure  before  Thy  sight. 
Not  for  one  moment,  Lord,  depart. 

But  let  me  walk  with  Thee  in  white. 


No  thought,  no  word,  no  deed  to-day. 

Which  may  displease  my  blessed  Lord  ; 
No  idle  loitering  by  the  way. 

But  sweetly  trusting  in  Thy  Word, 
Whatever  my  hands  may  find  to  do. 

That  may  I  do  with  all  my  might : 
To-day,  my  Father,  pure  and  true. 

Grant  I  may  walk  with  Thee  in  white. 

The  failures  of  the  yesterday, 

The  cares  which  may  to-morrow  come ; 
Each  tear,  each  fear,  now  chase  away, 

And  guide  me  on  my  journey  home. 
And  when  the  evening  shadows  fall. 

And  I  come  kneeling  in  Thy  sight, 
Then  may  I  feel,  my  Lord,  my  all, 

That  I  have  walked  with  Thee  in  white. 


i88  tTbe  Cro60*bearet 

And  can  I  walk  each  day  with  Thee, 

With  robes  all  white  and  pure  and  clean  ? 
Oh,  tell  me,  Saviour,  can  I  flee 

Forever  from  that  monster — sin? 
I  know  that  in  our  home  above 

Thy  saints  in  all  their  full  delight 
Shall  bask  within  redeeming  love, 

And  always  walk  with  Thee  in  white. 


THE  CROSS-BEARER, 

"\X/HEN  I  set  out  to  follow  Jesus, 

My  Lord  a  cross  held  out  to  me  ; 
Which  I  must  take,  and  bear  it  onward, 
If  I  would  His  disciple  be. 
I  turned  my  head  another  way, 
And  said,  *'  Not  this,  my  Lord,  I  pray  I " 


Yet,  as  I  could  not  quite  refuse  Him, 

I  sought  out  many  another  kind. 
And  tried  among  those  painted  crosses 
The  smallest  of  them  all  to  find. 
But  still  the  Lord  held  forth  my  own  : 
"  This  must  thou  bear,  and  this  alone.' 


Unheeding  then  my  dear  Lord's  offer, 

My  burdens  all  on  Him  to  lay, 
I  tried  myself  my  cross  to  lighten. 
By  cutting  part  of  it  away. 
And  still  the  more  I  tried  to  do. 
The  rest  of  it  more  heavy  grew. 


^be  Crogg  J6earer  189 

Well,  if  I  cannot  go  without  it, 

I  '11  make  the  most  of  it  I  may  ; 
And  so  I  held  my  cross  uplifted, 
In  sight  of  all  who  came  that  way. 
Alas  !  my  pride  found  bitterly 
My  cross  looked  small  to  all  but  me  I 


And  then  I  was  ashamed  to  bear  it, 

Where  others  walked  so  free  and  light. 
And  trailed  it  in  the  dust  behind  me. 
And  tried  to  keep  it  out  of  sight. 
Till  Jesus  said,  "  Art  thou  indeed 
Ashamed  to  follow  as  I  lead  ?  " 


No  I  no  ! — Why,  this  shall  be  my  glory — 

All  other  things  I  '11  count  but  loss  ; 
And  so  I  even  fashioned  garlands, 

And  hung  them  round  about  my  cross. 
*'  Oh,  foolish  one  I  such  works  are  dead  : 
Bear  it  for  me,"  the  Master  said. 

And  still  I  was  not  prompt  to  mind  Him, 

But  let  my  self-will  choose  the  way; 
And  sought  me  out  new  forms  of  service, 
And  would  do  all  things  but  obey. 
My  Lord  !  I  bless  Thee  for  the  pain 
That  drove  my  heart  to  Thee  again. 

I  bore  it  then,  with  Him  before  me. 

Right  onward  through  the  day's  white  heat ; 
Till,  with  the  toil  and  pain  o'er  mastered, 
I  fainting  fell  down  at  his  feet. 
But  for  His  matchless  care  tliat  day, 
I  should  have  perished  where  I  lay. 


I90  (Tbe  Cross  JBearer 

But  oh,  I  grew  so  very  weary, 

When  Hfe  and  sense  crept  back  once  more  I 
The  whole  horizon  hung  with  darkness, 
And  grief  where  joy  had  been  before  ; 
Better  to  die,  I  said,  and  rest. 
Than  live  with  such  a  burden  pressed. 


Then  Jesus  spoke  ;  "  Bring  here  thy  burden, 

And  find  in  me  a  full  release 
Bring  all  thy  sorrows,  all  thy  longings. 
And  take  instead  my  perfect  peace. 
Trying  to  bear  thy  cross  alone  ! — 
Child,  the  mistake  is  all  thine  own." 


And  now  my  cross  is  all  supported, — 
Part  on  my  Lord,  and  part  on  me  : 
But  as  He  is  so  much  the  stronger. 
He  seems  to  bear  it — I  go  free, 
I  touch  its  weight,  just  here  and  here, — 
Weight  that  would  crush,  were  He  not  near. 

Or  if  at  times  it  seemeth  heavy. 
And  if  I  droop  along  the  road. 
The  Master  lays  his  own  sweet  promise  * 
Between  my  shoulder  and  the  load  : 
Bidding  my  heart  look  up,  not  down. 
Till  the  cross  fades  before  the  crown. 

*  "  The  pillow  of  the  promise.  ^'—Rutherford, 


FINISHED    WOBK. 

CINISHED  work  1  For  Jesus  dieth  ; 

Woes  and  stripes  and  suffering  cease. 
Finished  work  1    For  Jesus  liveth, 
Leaving  us  His  perfect  peace. 

Finished  work  I    Oh,  blessed  promise: 
Toiling,  fainting  by  the  way, 

Finished  work  shall  we  accomplish 
If  we  only  watch  and  pray. 


Finished  work  I    Oh,  Holy  Spirit, 
Help  our  faith  and  keep  us  pure  1 

Finished  work  !  The  Master  saith  it, 
Like  the  rock  His  word  is  sure. 

Finished  work  I  When  it  is  ended, 
Perfect  love  shall  cast  out  fear. 

Finished  work  I    Co- working  with  Him, 
In  His  form  shall  we  appear. 

Finished  work  I    Oh,  glorious  foretaste  I 
Leaning  then  on  Jesus'  breast. 

Finished  work  I    No  tears,  no  sorrow. 
But  eternal  heavenly  rest. 


191 


''POST  TENEBRAS  LUX:' 

TT  is  His  way,  and  so  it  must  be  right ; 

Although  at  every  step  some  foot  that  bleeds 
Leaves  prints  of  anguish,  still  our  Father  leads 
Through  the  darkness  unto  light. 

So  dark  it  seems  I    We  long  for  break  of  day  ; 
We  know  not  Jesus  on  the  midnight  flood. 
Oh,  once  He  trod  the  path  of  woe  and  blood. 

His  solitary  way  ! 

And  yet  that  path  of  deepest  gloom  and  woe 
Led  up  to  glory,  greater  for  the  cross 
To  which  He  bowed  in  lifelong  want  and  loss. 

With  "  Father,  even  so  ! " 
For  midnight  darkness  often  bears  within 

Its  bafflng  blackness  germs  of  heaven's  light ; 

God's  holiness  is  not  one  ray  less  bright 
For  all  this  dark  world's  sin. 

He  holds  us  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand, 

And  gives  us  light  as  we  can  bear  it  now. 

His  glory's  shadow  upon  Moses'  brow 
Was  brightness  far  too  grand 

For  sinful  Israel  s  eyes  to  look  upon  ; 
Yet  those  whose  patient  hearts  seek  daily  strength 
Shall  surely  have  the  eagle's  wings  at  length, 

To  mount  toward  the  sun. 

And  eagle's  vision,  clear  and  bright  and  strong, 
E'en  here  is  given  those  whose  hearts  are  pure  ; 
They,  seeing  Him  invisible,  endure, 

Although  the  way  be  long. 
192 


:iBeautftul  fban^e  193 

To  them  a  light  arise th  ;  and  the  day, 
Hid  from  Egyptian  eyes  by  dark  eclipse, 
Shines  bright  as  noon,  and  on  their  trustful  lips 

Wakes  praises  while  they  pray. 


And  so  we  need  no  longer  vainly  grope, 
Moaning  the  poet's  death-cry,  *'  Light,  more  light  I 
We  need  not  earth's  dark  lanterns,  for  the  night 

Is  brilliant  with  the  hope 
Of  fairer  day-dawn  than  e'er  blessed  the  hills 

Of  God  around  Jerusalem  of  old . 

Aye  !  while  we  watch  the  east  a  flush  of  gold 
The  glad  horizon  fills. 

For  God  is  light  itself ;  in  Him  we  know 
There  is  no  darkness  ;  and  when  we  at  last 
Dwell  in  Him  truly,  darkness  shall  be  past, 

And  life  be  all  aglow. 
O  Christian  I  as  the  bird  that  sings  at  night, 

Or,  as  the  bird  that  God  has  taught  to  wait 

Until  the  daybreak,  sing  at  heaven's  gate. 
For,  *'  after  darkness,  light  I " 


BEAUTIFUL  HANDS. 

SUCH  beautiful,  beautiful  hands  I 
They  're  neither  white  nor  small. 
And  you,  I  know,  would  scarcely  think 

That  they  were  fair  at  all. 
I  've  looked  on  hands  whose  form  and  hue 

A  sculptor's  dream  might  be. 
Yet  are  these  aged  wrinkled  hands 
Most  beautiful  to  me. 


13 


194  /IRS  Sblps 

Such  beautiful,  beautiful  hands — 

Though  heart  was  weary  and  sad, 
These  patient  hands  kept  toiling  on 

That  the  children  might  be  glad. 
I  almost  weep  as,  looking  back 

To  childhood's  distant  day, 
I  think  how  these  hands  rested  not 

When  mine  were  at  their  play. 

Such  beautiful,  beautiful  hands. 

They  're  growing  feeble  now ; 
For  time  and  pain  have  left  their  mark 

On  hand  and  heart  and  brow. 
Alas !  alas  !  the  nearing  time. 

And  the  sad,  sad,  day  to  me. 
When  'neath  the  daisies,  out  of  sight, 

These  hands  will  folded  be. 

But  oh,  beyond  this  shadow-land, 

Where  all  is  bright  and  fair, 
I  know  full  well  these  dear  old  hands 

Will  palms  of  victory  bear. 
Where  crystal  streams,  through  endless  years 

Flow  over  golden  sands, 
And  where  the  old  grow  young  again, 

I  '11  clasp  my  mother's  hands. 


MY  SHIPS. 
I. 

AH,  years  ago — no  matter  where, 
Beneath  what  roof  or  sky, 
I  dreamed  of  days,  perhaps  remote, 


/IBb  Sblpg  195 

When  ships  of  mine  that  were  afloat 

Should  in  the  harbor  lie, 
And  all  the  costly  freights  they  bore 
Enrich  me  both  in  land  and  store. 

What  dreams  there  were  of  Argosies, 

Laden  in  many  a  clime  ; 
So  stoutly  built,  so  bravely  manned, 
No  fear  but  they  would  come  to  land 

At  their  appointed  time  ; 
And  I  should  see  them,  one  by  one, 
Close  furl  their  sails  in  summer's  sun. 

And  then,  while  men  in  wonder  stood. 

My  ships  I  would  unlade  ; 
My  treasures  vast  they  should  behold. 
And  to  my  learning  and  my  gold 

What  honors  would  be  paid  I 
And  though  the  years  might  come  and  go, 
I  could  but  wiser,  richer  grow. 

II. 

In  later  years— no  matter  where. 

Beneath  what  roof  or  sky, 
I  saw  the  dreams  of  days  remote 
Fade  out,  and  ships  that  were  afloat, 

As  drifting  wrecks  go  by. 
And  all  the  many  freights  they  bore 
Lay  fathoms  deep  or  strewed  the  shore. 

While  ships  of  which  I  never  thought 

Were  sailing  o'er  the  sea  ; 
And  one  by  one,  with  costlier  lade, 
In  safety  all  the  voyage  made. 

And  brought  their  freights  to  me  ; 
What  I  had  lost  but  trifle  seemed, 
And  I  was  richer  than  I  dreamed  I 


196  IFn  tbe  ^ielD 

No  wondering  crowd,  with  envious  eye, 
Looked  on  my  treasures  rare  ; 

Yet  they  were  weightier  far  than  gold  ; 

They  still  increase,  though  I  grow  old, 
And  are  beyond  compare. 

Would  all  the  restless  hearts  I  see 

Had  ships  like  those  that  came  to  me  t 


.     IN  THE  FIELD. 

FIGHTING  the  Battle  of  Life  I 
With  a  weary  heart  and  head; 
P'or  in  the  midst  of  the  strife 
The  banners  of  joy  are  fled. 
Fled  and  gone  out  of  sight, 

When  I  thought  they  were  so  near, 
And  the  music  of  hope  this  night 
Is  dying  away  on  my  ear. 

Fighting  alone  to-night — 

With  not  even  a  stander-by 
To  cheer  me  in  the  fight, 

Or  to  hear  me  when  I  cry. 
Only  the  Lord  can  hear, 

Only  the  Lord  can  see 
The  struggle  within,  how  dark  and  drear, 

Though  quiet  the  outside  be. 

Lord,  I  would  fain  be  still 

And  quiet  behind  my  shield  I 
But  make  me  to  love  Thy  will. 

For  fear  I  should  ever  yield  ; 
Even  as  now  my  hands, 

So  doth  my  folded  will 
Lie  waiting  thy  commands, 

Without  one  anxious  thrill. 


Vcvivc^  197 


But  as,  with  sudden  pain, 

My  hands  unfold  and  clasp, 
So  doth  my  will  start  up  again, 

And  taketh  its  old  firm  grasp. 
Nothing  but  perfect  trust. 

And  love  of  Thy  perfect  will, 
Can  raise  me  out  of  the  dust. 

And  bid  my  fears  be  still. 

O  Lord,  Th(3u  hidest  Thy  face. 

And  the  battle  clouds  prevail ; 
O  grant  me  Thy  most  sweet  grace. 

That  I  may  not  utterly  fail  I 
Fighting  alone  to-night  I 

With  what  a  sinking  heart — 
Lord  Jesus,  in  the  fight, 

O  stand  not  Thou  apart. 


REVIVED. 

DREAK  out,  my  heart,  in  joyous  strain. 
The  sun  has  conquered  night's  sad  reign. 
And  sheds  down  radiance  clear  ; 
Soon  as  the  King  turned  round  his  face  * 
My  sorrow  gave  to  rapture  place  ! 
Now  light  and  life  are  here  ; 
The  spices  flow 
God's  work  to  show. 
Within  His  garden  wrought. 
O  Lord,  my  Lord ! 
By  Thy  dear  Word, 
How  is  my  heart  continually  restored  I 

♦  "While  the  King   turns  round,  my   spikenard    sendeth   forth    the 
smell  theieof." — German  Bible, 
In  our  version  the  words  are  : 

"  Sitteth  at  his  table." 


198  IReviveo 

My  soul  in  doubt  and  bondage  lay, 
And  all  my  joy  had  fled  away — 
I  sought  Him,  He  was  gone  ! 
My  pardon  I  could  call  to  mind, 
But  still  my  Lord  I  could  not  find — 
'T  was  day  without  the  sun  I 
Then  near  He  drew, 
And  touched  me,  too, 
With  His  most  gracious  hand  ; 
O  Saviour  mine, 
That  touch  of  Thine 
A  fountain  proves  of  balsam  most  divine. 

Blessing,  salvation,  life  and  light. 
And  all  my  wealth,  and  all  my  might 

On  look  of  Thine  depend  ; 
Just  as  when  earth  lies  steeped  in  dew. 
Let  but  the  morning  sun  break  through, 
Scents  from  wak'd  flowers  ascend  ; 
In  my  heart's  ground, 
The  blossoms  found 
Breathe  sweet  upturned  to  Thee  ! 
When  Thy  beams  bright 
Dispel  the  night. 
They  raise  their  drooping  faces  to  the  light. 

Hosannas  to  my  Sun  I  '11  raise. 

Break  forth,  my  heart,  in  joy  and  praise, 

Break  forth  in  happy  song  ! 
Lord,  I  am  all  too  weak  to  sing, 
I  only  stammer  out,  my  King, 
Thanks  that  to  Thee  belong. 
Wake  up,  my  heart, 
All  fear,  all  smart. 
Thy  Saviour's  touch  can  heal. 
Lord  Christ,  to  Thee 
All  glory  be, 
Who  art  the  same  throughout  eternity  I 


GRANDFATHERS  PET, 

T^HIS  is  the  room  where  she  slept 

Only  a  year  ago — 
Quiet,  and  carefully  swept, 
Blinds  and  curtains  like  snow. 
There,  by  the  bed  in  the  dusty  gloom, 
She  would  kneel  with  her  tiny  clasped  hands  and 
pray! 
Here  is  the  little  white  rose  of  a  room. 
With  the  fragrance  fled  away  I 

Nelly,  grandfather's  pet. 

With  her  wise  little  face — 
I  seem  to  hear  her  yet 
Singing  about  the  place  ; 
But  the  crowds  roll  on,  and  the  streets  are  drear, 
And  the  world  seems  hard  with  a  bitter  doom  ; 
And  Nelly  is  singing  elsewhere — and  here 
Is  the  little  white  rose  of  a  room. 

Why,  if  she  stood  just  there, 

As  she  used  to  do, 
With  her  long,  light  yellow  hair, 
And  her  eyes  of  blue — 
If  she  stood,  I  say,  at  the  edge  of  the  bed. 
And  ran  to  my  side  with  a  living  touch. 
Though  I  know  she  is  quiet  and  buried  and  dead, 
I  would  not  wonder  much  ; 

For  she  was  so  young,  you  know- 
Only  seven  years  old, 

And  she  loved  me,  loved  me  so, 
Though  I  was  gray  and  old ; 

IQ9 


•  ^rust 

And  her  face  was  so  wise,  and  so  sweet  to  see, 
And  it  still  looked  living  when  she  lay  dead, 

As  she  used  to  plead  for  mother  and  me 
By  the  side  of  that  very  bed  ! 

I  wonder  now  if  she 

Knows  I  am  standing  here, 
Feeling,  wherever  she  be. 
We  hold  the  place  so  dear  ? 
It  cannot  be  that  she  sleeps  too  sound. 
Still  in  her  little  nightgown  dressed, 
Not  to  hear  my  footsteps  sound 
In  the  room  where  she  used  to  rest. 

I  have  felt  hard  fortune's  stings, 

And  battled  in  doubt  and  strife. 
And  never  thought  much  of  things 
Beyond  this  human  life  ; 
But  I  cannot  think  that  my  darling  died 
Like  great,  strong  men,  with  their  prayers 
untrue — 
Nay,  rather  she  sits  at  God's  own  side. 
And  sings  as  she  used  to  do  ! 


TRUST. 

[   CANNOT  see,  with  my  short  humpn  sight, 
Why  God  should  lead  this  way  or  that  f  or  me  ; 
I  only  know  He  saith,  "Child,  follow  me  "  ; 
But  I  can  trust. 


t  know  not  why  my  path  should  be  at  times 
So  straitly  hedged,  so  strangely  barred  before, 
I  only  know  God  could  keep  wide  the  door  ; 
But  I  can  trust. 


Jerusalem  tbe  (BolDen  aoi 

I  find  no  answer,  often,  when  beset 
With  questions  fierce  and  subtle  on  my  way, 
And  often  have  but  strength  to  faintly  pray; 
But  I  can  trust. 

I  often  wonder,  as  with  trembling  hand 
I  cast  the  seed  along  the  furrowed  ground, 
If  ripened  fruit  for  God  will  there  be  found  ; 
But  I  can  trust. 

I  can  not  know  why  suddenly  the  storm 
Should  rage  so  fiercely  round  me  in  its  wrath  : 
But  this  I  know,  God  watches  all  my  path ; 
And  I  can  trust. 

I  may  not  draw  aside  the  mystic  veil 

That  hides  the  unknown  future  from  my  sight, 
Nor  know  if  for  me  waits  the  dark  or  light ; 
But  I  can  trust. 

I  have  no  power  to  look  across  the  tide, 
To  know,  while  here,  the  land  beyond  the  river ; 
But  this  I  know,  I  shall  be  God's  forever  ! 
So  I  can  trust. 


JERUSALEM  THE  GOLDEN, 

JERUSALEM  the  Golden, 
I  languish  for  one  gleam 
Of  all  thy  glory  folden 

In  distance,  and  in  dream  I 
My  thoughts  like  palms  in  exile 

Climb  up  to  look  and  pray 
For  a  glimpse  of  that  dear  country 
That  lies  so  far  away. 


5eru6alem  tbe  (5olDen 

Jerusalem  the  Golden, 

Me  thinks  each  flower  that  blows, 
And  every  bird  a-singing, 

Of  the  same  secret  knows  I 
I  know  not  what  the  flowers 

Can  feel,  or  singers  see, 
But  all  these  summer  raptures 

Are  prophecies  of  thee. 

Jerusalem  the  Golden, 

When  sunset's  in  the  west, 
It  seems  the  gate  of  glory, 

Thou  city  of  the  blest  I 
And  midnight's  starry  torches, 

Through  intermediate  gloom. 
Are  waving  with  their  welcome 

To  thy  eternal  home. 

Jerusalem  the  Golden, 

Where  loftily  they  sing, 
O'er  pain  and  sorrows  olden 

Forever  triumphing  I 
Lowly  may  be  thy  portal 

And  dark  may  be  the  door. 
The  mansion  is  immortal ! — 

God's  palace  for  His  poor. 

Jerusalem  the  Golden, 

There  all  our  birds  that  flew, 
Our  flowers  but  half  unfolden, 

Our  pearls  that  turned  to  dew, 
And  all  the  glad  life-music 

Now  heard  no  longer  here. 
Shall  come  again  to  greet  us. 

As  we  are  drawing  near. 


Bttcr  tbe  JBattlc  -203 

Jerusalem  the  Golden, 

I  toil  on  day  by  day  ; 
Heart-sore  each  night  with  longing, 

I  stretch  my  hands  and  pray 
That  midst  thy  leaves  of  healing 

My  soul  may  find  her  nest. 
Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 

The  weary  are  at  rest. 


AFTER  THE  BATTLE. 

IVyi  Y  wound  is  deep,  I  fain  would  sleep,  O  Lord, 

I  stretch  my  hands  to  Thee  ! 
Do  Thou  according  to  Thy  faithful  word, 
And  set  Thy  servant  free  I 

Sore  hath  the  battle  been,  but  Victory 

Crowned  me  as  evening  fell ; 
Now  heart  and  flesh  are  failing,  let  me  see 

The  land  where  I  would  dwell. 

The  battle-field  is  cold  and  silent  now, 

Its  thunders  sunk  to  rest ; 
And  I  can  feel  the  touch  upon  my  brow 

Of  low  winds  from  the  west. 

The  clouds  of  sleep,  the  last  and  longest  sleep, 

Are  heavy  on  mine  eyes  ; 
They  cannot  watch ,  dear  Lord,  they  cannot  weep 

Beneath  Thy  dark'ning  skies. 

What  time  the  angel  Victory  came  down 

To  bid  my  conflict  cease, 
And  crowned  my  tired  soul  with  the  shining  crown 

Of  Righteousness  and  Peace, 


204  Btter  tbc  :JSattle 

That  instant  broke  the  sound  as  of  a  knell 

On  the  faint  evening's  breath; 
And  on  my  parched  mouth,  like  the  dew,  there  fell 

The  soft,  sweet  kiss  of  Death ; 

For  Victory  and  Death  walk  hand  in  hand 

Down  all  the  battle-field — 
One  ruddy  as  the  dawn,  the  other  grand. 

But  pale  behind  his  shield  ; 

And  whom  God  loves,  to  whom  is  victory 

On  such  a  field  as  this, 
Receive  the  radiant  angel's  crown,  and  see 

The  pale  cold  angel's  kiss. 

That  kiss  has  made  my  spirit  faint  and  weak; 

Lord,  take  me  to  Thy  breast ; 
Oh,  fold  me  closely,  where  the  weariest  seek 

And  find  Eternal  Rest ! 

Christ,  who  has  been  my  perfect  sun  by  day. 

Will  be  my  star  by  night  ; 
On  my  deep  rest  the  Lord  shall  shine  alway, 

An  everlasting  Light. 

Dimly  I  see  Him,  through  the  clouds  that  roll 

Along  the  dark'ning  west : 
O  Lord,  my  Star,  by  Thy  sweet  light  my  soul 

Doth  enter  into  Rest. 


THE  CLOUD   VISION, 

TN  the  chill  December  weather, 

When  the  earth  all  barren  lies  ; 
When  the  dead  leaves  drift  together 

And  the  feathery  snowflake  flies  ; 
When  thus  ends  the  spring-time  sowing, 

Summer's  brightness,  beauty,  light. 
Autumn,  too,  its  fruits  bestowing, 

Then  how  drear  the  grave's  dark  night ! 

Such  the  thought  when  toward  God's  acre. 

Mid  broad  fields  and  woodlands  found, 
We  went  forth  in  midst  of  winter. 

There  to  make  in  frozen  ground. 
And  where  all  was  bare  and  leafless. 

Resting  place  for  baby's  head  ; 
Which  so  oft,  when  tired  and  restless. 

We  had  laid  on  downy  bed. 

Rough  winds  blew  the  falling  snowflakes ; 

Clouds  dropped  low  like  funeral  pall. 
O'er  the  grave  where  we  with  heart-ache 

Asked,  "  Of  life  can  this  be  all?" — 
And  took  up  our  baby  darling. 

There  to  lay  him,  side  by  side 
With  his  sister,  softly  sleeping  ; 

Who  ere  he  was  born  had  died. 

Scarcely  was  the  sad  rite  ended. 

And  our  little  one  at  rest. 
When  beneath  the  clouds,  now  lifted, 

Shone  the  sun  from  out  the  west ; 
Filling  earth  and  sky  with  beauty. 

Painting  clouds  with  gorgeous  hue, 
Opening  up  the  path  of  glory, 

Bringing  gates  of  pearl  to  view. 
205 


2o6  XLbc  ClouO  Dision 

Slowly  changed  the  sunset  splendor, 

As  the  evening  shades  drew  nigh, 
Into  light  of  clearest  amber, 

All  along  the  western  sky ; 
When  two  clouds,  of  scarce  a  hand-breadth, 

Just  above  the  sun  were  seen, 
All  aglow  with  light  that  answered 

To  its  beams  of  golden  sheen. 


There  they  stood,  as  might  God's  angels 

Lingering  on  the  heavenly  heights, 
When  come  back  from  glad  evangels 

Taking  note  of  their  long  flights  ; 
Then,  as  if  one  thought  possessing, 

Nearer  to  each  other  drew, 
And,  as  though  in  fond  caressing. 

Vanished  quickly  out  of  view. 

'T  was  as  though  our  baby  children 

Stood  transfigured  to  our  sight : 
One,  come  forth  from  gate  of  Heaven 

And  from  out  its  mansions  bright. 
Welcome  bringing  to  the  other, 

Hast'ning  from  the  earth  away — 
Sister  welcoming  the  brother 

To  the  realms  of  endless  day. 


Was  it  not  a  heavenly  vision 

Which  our  Lord  in  pity  sent  ? 
Was  not  this  its  kindly  mission — 

This  His  merciful  intent. 
Our  grieved  hearts  to  keep  from  murmur, 

O'er  the  second  bitter  cup, 
Which  that  day  in  bleak  December, 

To  our  lips  we  lifted  up  ? 


MERCY  BEFORE  SACRIFICE, 


"Come  unto  Me  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

/^OME  to  the  clear  deep  river, 

Come  where  the  pastures  call ; 
Give  to  the  great  good  Giver 

The  trust  that  is  thy  all. 
From  want  eternal  fleeing, 

Come  to  an  endless  store  ; 
Bring  thy  whole  famished  being, 

For  He  wants  nothing  more. 


If  thoughts  of  thine  appall  thee, 

Oh,  lean  on  His  and  live  ! 
To  sacrifice  they  call  thee. 

While  He  is  here  to  give. 
Accept  thy  Father's  measure 

Of  need  that  He  can  see. 
The  heart  to  do  His  pleasure 

Is  in  His  love  for  thee. 


He  will  not  now  refuse  thee, 

Weak  hand  and  vision  dim  : 
For  something  He  will  use  thee, 

But  first  thou  wantest  Him. 
The  spirit  worn  with  straying, 

Will  find  His  judgment  best ; 
Oh,  hear  what  He  is  saying, 

And  yield  thyself  to  rest. 
207 


2o8  *'  irt  /nbigbt  1bave  JBeen  '* 

For  one  transporting  minute 

The  beckoning  word  obey; 
There  is  a  power  within  it 

To  bear  thee  on  thy  way. 
That  voice  of  mercy  speaking 

Is  God  the  Saviour's  might, 
And  all  thy  heart  is  seeking 

Lies  safely  in  its  light. 


"  IT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN.  " 

LED  by  kindlier  hand  than  ours, 
We  journey  through  this  earthly  scene. 
And  should  not  in  our  weary  hours. 
Turn  to  regret  what  might  have  been. 

And  yet  these  hearts,  when  torn  by  pain. 
Or  wrung  by  disappointment  keen. 

Will  seek  relief  from  present  cares 
In  thoughts  of  joys  that  might  have  been. 

But  let  us  still  these  wishes  vain  ; 

We  know  not  that  of  which  we  dream. 
Our  lives  might  have  been  sadder  j^et ; 

God  only  knows  what  might  have  been. 

Forgive  us.  Lord,  our  little  faith ; 

And  help  us  all,  from  morn  till  e'en, 
Still  to  believe  that  lot  the  best 

Which  is — not  that  which  might  have  been. 

And  grant  we  may  so  pass  the  days 
The  cradle  and  the  grave  between, 

That  death's  dark  hour  not  darker  be 
For  thoughts  of  what  life  might  have  been. 


A  VERY  PRESENT  HELP  IN  TROUBLE. 

'TRUST  in  the  Lord  !  yea,  trust  in  Him  ; 

Renew  thy  strength  again  ; 
For  He  from  whom  thy  faith  was  born 
That  faith  will  still  sustain. 

Commit  thy  way  to  Him  to  whom 

Thou  dost  commit  thy  soul ; 
He  sees  the  path  by  thee  unseen  : 

On  Him  thy  burden  roll. 

Wait  thou  on  Him  ;  His  time  is  best ; 

His  wisdom  shall  declare  : 
Wait  Thou  in  patient  hope,  and  trace 

A  Father's  tender  care. 


Rest  upon  Him,  on  Him,  thy  Lord, 
Till  thou  canst  see  His  face  ; 

Folded  within  each  purpose  lie 
Deep  mysteries  of  grace. 

He  nourishes  the  comfortless  : 

He  sends  the  gloomy  days, 
To  train  thy  soul  for  nobler  flight, 

And  give  thee  themes  for  praise. 

He  sends  thee  blast ;  He  bids  the  storm 
Sweep  o'er  His  richest  land, 

To  prove  the  trees  of  righteousness 
Are  planted  by  His  hand. 
14  209 


B  Xtttle  mbile 

He  lets  the  tear-mist  float  above 

The  valley's  fairest  spot ; 
And  the  budding  grass  is  greenest  where 

Our  earthly  joys  are  not. 

He  sends  his  springs  among  the  hills, 

When  other  streams  decline  ; 
And  where  the  flowery  gourd  hath  drooped, 

He  trains  His  fruitful  vine. 


Whoso  is  wise,  and  all  His  works 
With  watchful  care  discern, 

The  loving-kindness  of  the  Lord 
They,  even  they,  shall  learn. 


A  LITTLE  WHILE. 

A  LITTLE  while  of  mingled  joy  and  sorrow, 
A  few  more  years  to  wander  thus  below, 
To  wait  the  dawning  of  that  golden  morrow 
When  morn  shall  break  above  our  night  of  woe. 

A  few  more  thorns  about  our  pathway  growing. 
Ere  yet  our  hands  may  cull  the  heavenly  flowers ; 

The  morning  comes,  but,  first,  the  tearful  sowing, 
Ere  we  repose  these  weary  souls  of  ours. 

A  few  more  hours  of  weariness  and  sighing, 
Of  mourning  o'er  the  power  of  inner  sin  ; 

A  little  while  of  daily  crucifying, 
To  this  vain  world,  the  evil  heart  within. 


/BSiQbts  to  Save  an 

A  little  longer  in  this  vale  of  weeping, 
Of  yearning  for  the  sinless  home  above : 

A  little  while  our  marriage  garments  keeping 
Unspotted,  by  the  power  of  Him  we  love. 

A  little  while  for  winning  souls  to  Jesus, 
Ere  we  behold  His  beauty  face  to  face  ; 

A  little  while  for  healing  soul  diseases 
By  telling  others  of  a  Saviour's  grace. 

A  little  while  to  spread  the  joyful  story 
Of  Him  who  made  our  guilt  and  curse  His  own  : 

A  little  while  ere  we  behold  the  glory, 
To  gain  fresh  jewels  for  our  heavenly  crown. 

A  little  while,  then  we  shall  dwell  forever 
Within  our  bright,  our  everlasting  home. 

Where  time,  or  space,  or  death  can  no  more  sever 
Our  grief -wrung  hearts,  and  pain  can  never  come. 

'T  is  but  a  little  while  ;  the  way  is  dreary, 
The  night  is  dark,  but  we  are  nearing  land  ; 

O,  for  the  rest  of  heaven,  for  we  are  weary. 
And  long  to  mingle  with  the  deathless  band  I 


T 


MIGHTY  TO  SAVE. 

Isaiah  Ixiii.,  i. 

HE  King  of  Glory  standeth 
Beside  the  heart  of  sin. 
His  mighty  voice  commandeth 

The  raging  waves  within. 

The  floods  of  deepest  anguish 

Roll  backward  at  His  will, 

As  o'er  the  storm  ariseth 

His  mandate,  "  Peace  be  still." 


liXsigbt^  to  Save 

At  times  with  sudden  glory, 

He  speaks  and  all  is  done  ; 
Without  one  stroke  of  battle 

The  victory  is  won. 
While  we  with  joy  beholding 

Can  scarce  believe  it  true 
That  e'en  our  Kingly  Jesus 

Can  form  such  hearts  anew. 


He  comes  in  blood-stained  garments, 

Upon  His  brow  a  crown  ; 
The  gates  of  brass  fly  open, 

The  iron  bands  drop  down. 
From  off  the  fettered  captive 

The  chains  of  Satan  fall, 
While  angels  shout  triumphant 

That  Christ  is  Lord  of  all. 

But  sometimes  in  the  stillness 

He  gently  draweth  near, 
And  whispers  words  of  welcome 

Into  the  sinner's  ear  ; 
With  anxious  heart  awaiteth 

The  answer  to  His  cry, 
The  oft-repeated  question, 

Oh,  wherefore  wilt  thou  die  ? 

Or  in  the  gathering  darkness. 

With  wounded  feet  and  sore. 
The  suppliant  Saviour  standeth, 

And  knocketh  at  the  door. 
The  bleak  winds  howl  around  Him, 

The  unbelief  and  sin  ; 
Yet  Jesus  waits,  entreating 

That  He  may  enter  in. 


**Zcnco  JBt  ^cneor"  213 

He  whispers  through  the  portal, 

He  woos  us  with  His  love, 
He  calls  us  to  the  kingdom 

That  waits  for  us  above. 
He  speaks  of  all  the  gladness 

His  yearning  heart  would  give  ; 
Tells  of  the  flowing  fountain, 

And  bids  us  wash  and  live. 


O  Christ,  Thy  love  is  mighty  I 

Long-suffering  is  Thy  grace  1 
And  glorious  is  the  splendor 

That  beameth  from  Thy  face  ! 
Our  hearts  upleap  in  gladness 

When  we  behold  that  love, 
As  we  go  singing  onward, 

To  dwell  with  Thee  above  ! 


**  TENEO  ET  TENEOR." 

I  HOLD  and  I  am  held  ! "    What  hold  I  to  ; 
And  what  holds  me?     I  hold  Thy   cross 
thou  Word 
Of  the  Eternal !  where  the  envious  Jew 

Pierced  Thee,  my  fingers  press,  nor  can  be  stirred, 
Though  hell  oppose  1    By  Thee  my  soul  is  held  ! 

By  all  Gethsemane's  agony  and  grief 
United,  joined,  and  naught  can  break  the  weld, 
But  my  own  want  of  faith— my  unbelief ! 

O  God  of  Calvary  :    O  Lord  divine  I 
Hold  me  and  I  am  held  t    I  cannot  slide 
When  pressing  closely  to  Thy  bleeding  side, 

Though  men  and  devils  'gainst  my  soul  combine  I 


214  Mctbam 

Nor  shall  I  wander  far,  if  in  the  veil 
Of  Jesus'  flesh,  my  anchor  has  been  cast ; 

But  I  shall  hear  the  welcome  plaudit — "  Hail, 
Beloved,  enter  into  rest ! "  at  last. 


BETHANY. 

SIX  days  before  the  Passover 
The  blessed  Saviour  came 
To  Bethany,  where  He  remained 

Until  His  hour  of  shame  ; 
His  last  abode  was  in  the  home 

Of  Lazarus,  His  friend  ; 
Those  He  had  loved  while  in  the  world, 
He  loved  unto  the  end. 

The  shadow  of  the  Passion  lay 

Brooding  on  all  around, 
Though  what  it  meant  they  could  not  know ; 

Its  depth  was  too  profound 
For  mortal  eye  to  search  it  out — 

Though  woman's  '  love  might  see 
Further  than  most  into  the  shade 

Of  that  great  Mystery. 

His  sacred  Heart  in  its  lone  depths 

Was  heaving  at  the  thought 
That  human  nature's  perfectness 

Through  suffering  must  be  wrought. 
And  yet  He  set  His  face  to  go 

With  firm  endurance  on, 
And  rose  above  the  nature  weak 

That  clothed  the  Eternal  Son  : 

1  ST.  MATT.  XXVi.,  12. 


:fl3etbani2  215 

And  He  did  then  for  evermore 

That  form  of  trial  bless 
If  only  sinking  hearts  to  Him 

Will  turn  in  their  distress  ; 
One  ray  of  glory  in  the  Crown 

That  on  His  brows  is  set 
Is  drawn  from  those  deep  pangs  of  Fear 

He  never  can  forget. 


Not  for  Himself  alone  He  fears — 

That  all-forseeing  Eye 
Distinguishes  each  single  throb 

Of  human  agony  ; 
He  wept  o'er  every  closing  grave, 

Unto  the  end  of  time  : 
His  soul  drank  in  the  rising  swell 

Of  sorrow's  awful  chime. 


He  took  full  measure  of  the  grief 

Of  every  separate  saiut, 
As  one  by  one  each  on  his  cross 

Must  tremble  and  grow  faint ; 
He  knew,  though  He  had  given  them  rest, 

They  first  must  find  sore  strife, 
Must  seek  e'en  through  the  gates  of  Death 

His  promised  gift  of  Life. 


Yet  even  then  His  joy  arose, 

Forever  to  increase. 
In  knowing  that  this  suffering  host 

Would  find  in  Him  their  peace  ; 
The  travail  of  His  soul  might  bow 

That  sacred  Head  to  earth. 
Yet  He  is  satisfied  to  see 

The  new  Creation's  birth. 


2i6  mMing 

He  feels  the  presence  of  meek  love 

Already  at  His  side, 
The  gentle  ones  who  cling  to  Him, 

And  breast  the  world's  strong  tide ; 
He  sees  the  eyes  that  to  Him  turn, 

The  hands  that  seek  His  own, 
Those  who,  in  sharpest  discipline, 

Trust  Him,  and  Him  alone. 


Apostles,  Martyrs,  the  long  line 

Of  royal,  warrior  soul, 
Flash  on  Him  their  triumphant  smiles 

From  where  the  Future  rolls ; 
The  white-robed  multitude,  whom  none 

Can  number  or  declare. 
Waft  Him  their  floating  voice  of  praise 

Already  on  the  air. 

Lord  !  since  our  griefs  on  Thee  were  laid, 

And  Thou  hast  felt  their  sting. 
Help  us  in  holiest  calm  to  take 

Our  turn  of  suffering  : 
Thou  didst  look  on  unto  Thy  Joy, 

And  so  by  grace  will  we. 
But  we  would  clasp  Thy  Cross,  and  feel 

We  owe  that  Joy  to  Thee — 


WAITING. 

LORD  of  my  nights  and  days  I 
Let  my  desire  be 
Not  to  be  rid  of  earth, 
But  nearer  Thee — 


TWlatttng  217 

If  I  may  nearer  draw 

Thro'  lengthened  grief  and  pain, 
Then  to  continue  here 

Must  be  my  gain  ; 

Till  I  have  strengthened  been, 

To  take  a  wider  grasp 
Of  that  Eternal  Life 

I  long  to  clasp  ; 

Till  I  am  so  refined 

I  can  the  glory  bear 
Of  that  excess  of  joy 

I  thirst  to  share  ; 


Till  I  am  meet  to  gaze 

On  uncreated  Light, 
Transformed,  and  perfected, 

By  that  new  sight. 

Sorrow's  long  lesson  o'er. 

Death's  discipline  gone  through. 
Thou  wilt  unfold  to  me 

What  Joy  can  do. 

Glad  souls  are  on  the  wing, 
From  Earth  to  Heaven  they  flee  ; 

At  last  I    Thine  hour  will  come, 
To  send  for  me. 


Reveal  the  Mighty  Love 

That  binds  Thy  Heart  to  mine  : 
Thy  Counsels  and  my  will 

Should  intertwine. 


2i8  Blpba  ano  Qmcga 

Lord  of  my  heart  and  hopes  ! 

Let  my  desire  be, 
Not  to  be  rid  of  Earth, 

But  one  with  Thee. 


ALPHA  AND  OMEGA. 

ALPHA  and  Omega  I 
Be  thou  my  First  and  Last : 
The  Source  whence  I  descend. 
The  Joy  to  which  I  tend, 
When  Earth  is  past. 


Open  my  waking  eyes. 

And  fill  them  with  Thy  Light : 
For  Thee  each  plan  begun, 
In  Thee  each  duty  done. 

Close  them  at  night. 


Enfold  me  when  asleep ; 

Let  soft  dews  from  above 
Refresh  the  long  day's  toil ; 
Wash  off  the  worldly  soil. 

And  strengthen  Love. 


Men  speak  of  Four  Last  Things- 
Death,  and  the  Judgment  Hall, 
Hell,  and  the  Heaven  so  fair  : 
But  Thou,  O  Lord,  art  there. 
Beyond  them  all. 


•Qlnto  tbe  2)C0ire&  l>avcn  219 

There  is  no  "  last "  with  Thee, 

But  only  our  last  Sins, 
Last  Sorrows,  and  last  Tears, 
Last  Sicknesses,  last  Fears, 

Then  Joy  begins  : 

Joy  without  bound  or  end, 
Concentric  circles  bright. 
Spreading  from  round  Thy  Throne, 
Flowing  from  Thee  alone, 

0  Love  I    O  Light  ! 

Lay  Thy  right  Hand  of  Power 

In  blessing  on  my  brow  ; 
Heaven's  Keys  are  in  Thy  Hand, 
Its  Portals  open  stand  : 

1  fear  not  now. 

Lead  Thou  me  gently  in. 

Thou  who  through  Death  hast  past, 
Then  bring  me  to  Thy  Throne  ; 
For  Thee  I  seek  alone, 

My  First  and  Last. 


UNTO  THE  DESIRED  HAVEN, 
Psalm  cvii. 

WHAT  matter  how  the  winds  may  blow, 
Or  blow  they  east,  or  blow  they  west  ? 
What  reck  I  how  the  tides  may  flow, 

Since  ebb  or  flood  alike  is  best  ? 
No  summer  calm,  no  winter  gale, 

Impedes  or  drives  me  from  my  way  ; 
I  steadfast  toward  the  haven  sail 
That  lies,  perhaps,  not  far  away. 


lanto  tbe  H)e0ireD  Ibaven 

I  mind  the  weary  days  of  old, 

When  motionless  I  seemed  to  lie  ; 
The  nights  when  fierce  the  billows  rolled, 

And  changed  my  course,  I  know  not  why. 
I  feared  the  calm,  I  feared  the  gale, 

Foreboding  danger  and  delay. 
Forgetting  I  was  thus  to  sail 

To  reach  what  seemed  so  far  away. 

I  measure  not  the  loss  and  fret 

Which  through  those  years  of  doubt  I  bore  ; 
I  keep  the  memory  fresh,  and  yet 

Would  hold  God's  patient  mercy  more. 
What  wrecks  have  passed  me  in  the  gale, 

What  ships  gone  down  on  summer  day, 
While  1,  with  furled  or  spreading  sail. 

Stood  for  the  haven  far  awa3^ 

What  matter  how  the  winds  may  blow, 

Since  fair  or  foul  alike  is  best  ? 
God  holds  them  in  His  hand  I  know  ; 

And  I  may  leave  to  Him  the  rest, 
Assured  that  neither  calm  nor  gale 

Can  bring  me  danger  or  delay, 
As  still  I  toward  the  haven  sail 

That  lies,  I  know,  not  far  away. 


^m^'',\ 


"3^i:l 


303994 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


